Bloodlust
by Amigodude
Summary: Just you wait a little while, the nasty man will come, with his lariat and his knife, he will chop you up." - by Just Another Soul and Amigodude
1. Chapter 1

**Bloodlust -by Just Another Soul and Amigodude**

Disclaimer: Black Lagoon and its characters © Rei Hiroe

Texas Chainsaw Massacre and its characters © Vortex, Tobe Hooper, director.

Rating: M for mature

**Chapter 1 - "How do you Like Texas?"**

- _Some time ago..._

On a pitch black, starless evening, a solitary figure stumbled through a bare plain, an endless field long since harvested. The girl who called herself Revy was barely able to feel out the frozen ground beneath her feet, each fatigued step was dangerous. The wind blew in great gusts, upsetting her balance so she lurched between the endless rows.

Both her hands were dug deep in the pockets of the leather jacket, the handle of the small bag looped around the forearm so the bag swung ceaselessly against her hip. The girl was numb and raw from the sharp cold, teetering on the edge of hypothermia as her clothing was soaked through from the irregular rainfall. The cloth high-top sneakers were coming apart at the seams.

Behind, miles back, the flashing blue and red lights were a fading flicker on the horizon, the police cars clustered on the highway. For five days and nights Revy had been pursued relentlessly. A botched burglary of a house in Austin had turned out to be the residence of no less than the chief of the Texas Rangers. A massive hunt had ensued. Somehow, and beyond belief, she had evaded the pursuers.

The eventual and expected stumble finally came and she tumbled into a ditch. The girl rolled over panting and lay sprawled on the cold ground. She could feel the last of her body heat slipping away. Up until now the weather had been mild and the outdoors tolerable, but a cold front had swept in from the north.

With an effort she crawled up the slope, wincing as the wind struck at her exposed face. Squinting ahead she could see in the distance the faint glow of lights. Her teeth were chattering so hard the jaw muscles hurt. Dimly the girl realized that she would not survive the long night if shelter wasn't found soon.

It took about fifteen minutes before she trudged up a slight incline towards the building. Situated at the crossroads, the roadhouse was brightly illuminated, a rundown building with a green metal roof and a gaudy neon sign. The parking lot to the side was filled with pickup trucks and lines of motorbikes. A low and constant thumping emanated from within.

There were no police cars and once sure of her security, and without any further hesitation, Revy made for the front door. Going in the entrance she was immediately engulfed in a miasma of cigarette smoke and flashing lights. The din was overwhelming. Through the smoke and the crowd of men, she could see a hard faced woman rolling slowly off a pole on the plywood stage.

She sighed gratefully. Regardless of the seedy atmosphere, at least the roadhouse was warm.

"Where's the manager? I got an appointment" she forced a shout at the door man who came over looking for the cover charge. A few heads turned, the usual mix of rough men checking out the new arrival.

It was a lie, but the door man jerked his heard towards the rear and went back to contemplating the wad of bills in his hand. Revy pushed her way through the press, her shoes sticking on the beer soaked floor. Someone attempted to grope her and she twisted away.

The office was narrow and cramped, mismatched shelves jutted from the walls overloaded with receipts and boxes. The window at the rear covered over with brown plastic and duct tape. A fat man with a paper thin mustache above his lip was squeezed at the desk and looked up in irritation, his greasy complexion glistening under the fluorescent light.

"I need a job," Revy stated without introduction. "I can start now."

The man spat into a cup. He was chewing tobacco and a strand of brown colored phlegm wobbled on his chins.

"Sure," he said, the tone surprisingly high pitched. "We're short tonight. Let's see what you got. Don't close the door and don't bother dancing."

Without showing any emotion, Revy let the bag fall to the floor, and pulled off the leather jacket. The hoodie and t-shirt went next. The fingers were stiff and she fumbled briefly at her pants before they fell around her ankles. For a moment she had deceived herself into thinking she could do table busing or cleaning for a few dollars. She knew better. A zombie-like numbness settled in. Outside was the cold, the rain, the hunger, the police.

The man spit again, his eyes flickered as he looked over "Damn, you're a skinny thing. Well, we could use someone in the back hall. What do you think Gunny Tom?"

The door of the office creaked as it swung shut and the room became noticeably quieter. The skin along Revy's spine all the way up to the nape of the neck prickled as she felt another man standing close behind, but she refused to turn.

"Hey Sam, this one smells somethin' awful," a laconic voice drawled – the southern accent played up as an affection. "It don't matter, those bikers out there will think she's wearing some fancy perfume. Check it out, China girl's got history."

Sam swiveled in his overloaded chair, the expanse of the stomach sagging below his thighs. A stack of greenbacks were brushed off and fell on the floor He gawked at the swirling tattoos covering the girl's shoulder and upper chest, even up onto her neck. "We got ourselves a little gook gang-banger – fresh meat up from Port Arthur aren't you?"

"I'm not a gook," grated Revy.

"Sure you aren't," said Gunny Tom. He breathed out and his whiskey soaked breath enveloped Revy. The tips of his fingers prodded her lower back, at the scars. "These look like exit wounds from bullets. What the hell you been up to girl?"

"They're birthmarks," said Revy. She swayed briefly. "Am I hired?"

Sam leered and contemplated the scattered money, "You won't be dancing. The girls got a room behind the stage for their stuff. That girl Jasmin... she just got in? Good. Do what she does and you'll do fine. Oh, and don't bother getting dressed."

Revy gathered up her clothing and bag. Turning, she looked Gunny Tom up and down. He was a short little bantam cock of a man, probably in his early twenties with a mullet of stringy, black hair. His chin was rather pointed, marked by a jagged scar. A cigarette hung loosely from a toothy grin; there was an unnatural gleam to his stare. But the girl's focus went past Gunny Tom to the dusty police radio scanner on the shelving unit to the right of his head. The red light flickered. The scanner was on.

"See ya in a bit, pussycat," chuckled Gunny Tom.

"I'm Jasmin. I'm seventeen," the blonde said. She was only a year older than Revy. She waved a half eaten sandwich frantically about. "You're not from around here are you hon? How do you like Texas?"

"Thought it'd be warmer," said Revy. She was transfixed by the sandwich and couldn't stop staring.

"Hon, it's January," said Jasmin. "Here, you need this more than me. You look absolutely starved and that shivering isn't going to attract the cockroaches. You're not a crack head are you?"

"Thank you," said Revy astounded. After a wary pause she took the stale sandwich gratefully. She shook her head to the question, too busy trying to eat the offered sandwich; she almost choked on the first attempt to swallow. "Is there anything to drink?"

Jasmin pulled a flask out of the bag she used as a purse and passed it over. "My secret stash. Underage drinking ain't somethin' were going to be hassled about. Don't let anyone give shit to you by the way, don't be nobody's freak. The rest of the girls here are messed up big-time. You can practically see their skin crawl."

The dressing room was not much more than a closet. Revy finished the makeshift meal and licked her fingers desperately. She tilted the flask back and took several deep swallows of rum, felt the liquid burn a path down her parched throat. The rum would stop for a moment the insistent feeling of emptiness, the desperate craving for more food.

"Wow, you're a fright." Jasmin sighed and took out a brush and smacked it against the palm of her hand. "Let me work on your hair before we go degrade ourselves for a few lousy bucks. First things first newbie: pick up that beer bottle over there."

Revy obliged as Jasmin ran the brush through her hair. "Okay, hold out the bottle, don't spill! Now hold out your hand and stick out your fingers. Good. Pretend that's a guys prick."

Revy snorted. Jasmin pulled the brush vigorously, her brow creased. "No really – I'm going somewhere with this. Prick, bottle – they're just things. Let me repeat – they're just things. Ya' gotta toss away whatever you think things mean or you're going to crawl down a dark, dirty crack and stay there. Put a mask on and don't try to feel, remember or experience shit cause it's nothing but cockroaches out there tonight. But when the work's done, take the damn mask off and come back up. We ain't here to be goody-goodies. Okay?"

"Okay," Revy nodded. Jasmin looked pathetically pleased with her proffered advice. There was no point in Revy telling the other girl she'd fallen down the dark, dirty crack long ago.

The clock hands were at 3:00. Revy slumped to the floor of the dressing room and struggled with her pants. The shirt was pulled back on with slow movements. Everything felt... dirty. She wanted to scrub herself with a brillo pad till her skin bled. No matter how many times she rinsed and spit in the sink it wasn't enough. She wanted to curl up and let sleep wash this life away.

There had been one adrenalin pumped instance when two police officers had marched in, purposefully ignoring the multiple violations around as they went straight to Sam's office. On their way out, minutes later the two had walked right by the naked girl hiding in plain sight as she entertained a faceless weekend cowboy.

Her head wobbled, and she snapped back into awareness. Jasmin was taking too long. When the other girl had found out Revy had no place to go, Jasmin had immediately insisted that Revy go with her. ".. it's just a crappy trailer and my drunk Uncle. We can share my bed if you don't mind. I mean for sleep, I'm not that kinda girl, but we could if you wanted to, when we're not so tired..." and she giggled nervously and blinked.

"How much did we make?" mumbled Revy. Jasmin made a face.

"Not much," she said. "But its cash, I'm off to see Sam." That was five minutes ago.

With the shoelaces tied, Revy shrugged on the scuffed leather jacket, stood up and went out into the hallway. There were still a straggler or two at the bar, the stereo system had been turned off and the roadhouse was quiet. The door to Sam's office was open a crack. She came up close and listened.

"I'm not going to leave without her," protested Jasmin heatedly. "I know what you're thinkin', what d'you say your name was? Mr. Sawyer – but it's not happen... oww...hey! What the fuck?"

A sound of a slap and Revy heard Jasmin being pushed up against the shelves.

"Listen up bitch hog," sneered Gunny Tom. "China girl's none of your business, so get your skanky whore ass back to that trailer park you call home..."

Revy hissed. Spinning on her heel she went back to the dressing room. She knelt down and pulled the gun from the bag. The slide was open. For a moment she hesitated, then she released the magazine catch.

The door crashed open and Revy stormed in.

Sam had managed to get up out of his chair and had his thick, round fingers buried in Jasmin's hair, her head was pulled back. Gunny Tom had one hand on the Jasmin's throat and with the other was cuffing her repeatedly. Her cheeks were red. All three looked over in surprise at Revy's entrance.

"Fuckers," snarled Revy, eyes gleaming, "Fuckers, fuckers, motherfuckers! Back up or I'll blow your fuckin' eyeballs out the back of your heads."

Sam minced back, eyes wide and stumbled over his chair. "Oh shit Gunny! You're right! It is the little Chink they been talkin' about on the police scanner."

Gunny Tom slid back from Jasmin raising his hands in front, a grin spreading across his sallow face. "Hot damn! I was right, cops thought you was a boy - but I knew it the second you moseyed in here. You know how to use that gun, whore?"

Revy racked the action, slammed the magazine home and raised the barrel in a swift motion. The index finger curled around the trigger. Her smile matched his in ferocity. "Let's find out." she said.

"Hold on, hold on," shouted Sam looking desperate. Jasmin's head whipped back and forth, her pale green eyes wide, unsure whom to fear most. "Now let's not do something, we'll regret."

"You're right about that," said Revy. "Jasmin, grab the money on the desk. We're leaving. You won't call the cops because if you do, I'll be sure to let them know about the ten keys of Colombian brown I saw stored in the back. That way the only thing you'll need to clean up is Sam's pants."

"Well, damn! Call me a Hewitt!" laughed Gunny Tom. He was far too relaxed for Revy, "Go ahead, git on outta here."

Jasmin hesitated, then quickly grabbed the stacked money. She slid past Gunny Tom with a roll of her eyes. A couple of bills floated in her wake.

"You're fired," stuttered Sam, shaking his fist. There was a spreading blotch of piss on the front of his pants.

"Hell, we quit!" laughed Revy backing out of the doorway. To Gunny Tom, "..hey, dipshit, that accent of yours is lame!"

"Oh my god, oh my god, we're like fugitives," gasped Jasmin, gripping the steering-wheel. The car lurched out of the parking lot and they drove away. "And now I don't have a job, heck I just got my license. My uncle's going to be so mad. I had to drop out of high school – I mean there's nothing but the roadhouse since the meat packing plant closed down."

"Then let's go," suggested Revy in the passenger seat. "We got close to a grand or so, and a car. I was thinking about Las Vegas. How far away is it?"

"I think California," said Jasmin. Suddenly she swerved to the side of the road and braked abruptly bringing the car to a shuddering halt. Breathing hard she turned and stared at Revy wide eyed.

"Mr. Sawyer said you were some type of killer," she blurted out. "He told me the police have been looking for you the last five days something fierce. Please get out of my...oh.. god..."

Revy picked up the gun in her lap. Five days ago the chrome plated Comanche Special had belonged to the Texas Ranger chief. Momentarily, the thought crossed her mind to hijack the car and leave Jasmin on the side of the road. Instead she unloaded the magazine, out of force of habit racking the slide twice to prove the action was clear. Then she held up the magazine for the fearful Jasmin's inspection.

"No ammo," she said. "Wasn't sure I could fool them, but it was worth a try. Otherwise those jerks would have had new assholes in their foreheads." The gun and magazine dropped from her hands into the foot well.

"You were bluffing," Jasmin gasped.

Revy felt her lip tremble, she was totally drained and feeling lightheaded from the accumulated fatigue of the last five days. "Look, don't tell me to get out. I can't take the cold... I'm lonely and I can't do truck stops. Can't ride with the Chulas or Angels either – won't be a back-ride bitch no more. I got nothing."

"What are you?" said Jasmin. "What kind of girl can get all the Rangers more pissed off than a mound of fire ants? That Mr. Sawyer was ranting about how you're like, super-wanted."

"I'm just me," said Revy dully. She leaned forward and hugged her knees. "I'm on the fuckin' police blacklist. The second they figure out I'm a certain girl from NYC and not a random runaway, I'm dead by dawn. The autopsy will say something like I had too much junk in my system. Or I was shot resisting arrest. Some shit like that. They'll do me terminal. "

Jasmin stared ahead out of the windshield.

Doesn't it count I stopped them from hurting you?" Revy pleaded.

The other girl reached into her jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit one and then another and mutely offered the second one to Revy. Then her hand found Revy's and gripped it tightly. The cigarette tips glowed in the dark.

"Can you drive?" said Jasmin.

"Never had a chance to get a license," said Revy. "Can't be that hard, I can ride a motorbike."

"I don't need nothin' from home, " Jasmin decided. "My Uncle's full of shit anyway. We're friends then. Las Vegas it is, hon."

Jasmin put the lighter and cigarettes back in her pocket. She took her foot off the brake and swung the car around. Back at the crossroads she took the road going west.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Black Lagoon and its characters © Rei Hiroe

Texas Chainsaw Massacre © New Line Cinema

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Meet the Sawyers**

Revy didn't want to wake up, but someone was shouting. And then the wail of a siren brought her back to heart stopping awareness.

"I swear I wasn't speeding, oh crap," Jasmin was shrieking. Her head was tilted so she could look in the mirror. She pounded the steering wheel. "Oh crap, he came out of nowhere."

Revy sat up and whipped around, the police car was right on their bumper. With the heel of her sneaker she slid the gun and magazine under the seat.

"We aren't going to outrun him in a Gremlin or a Yugo or whatever the hell you got," Revy shouted back. "Pull over, you don't have a choice. Trust me it will get worse if you don't."

Jasmin braked and brought the car to a grinding halt on the side of the road. The police car rolling to a stop close behind. Jasmin rolled down the window. "My insurance and papers are in the glove compartment. Oh god..."

"Calm down, here he comes. Be cool." Revy said trying not to let the other girl's panic overwhelm her. Already she was scanning the early morning landscape. They were in the westernmost part of Texas hill country and the area was mostly a medley of cedar and scrub oak. No other cars were visible on the long stretch of road. A few seconds and she could be lost in the woods. A hand crept to the door handle.

"Little lady," the policeman came to the driver window and bent over. He was a tall, severe faced individual with mirrored sunglasses under a tan felt hat. He wore a light grey shirt with a sheriff's badge on his chest. "Did you know your rear tail light is broken?"

"What?" Jasmin stammered, she held out the papers hesitantly..

The sheriff waved it away. "Probably should write you up, but we'll let it go. Why don't you step out of the car, Miss? I'll show you which one is broken."

"Be right back," grinned Jasmin. Revy tried to smile, but once the two had moved out of sight she exhaled. Slumping down, she closed her eyes in relief and let go of the door handle.

The gunshot immediately propelled her into reflexive motion, the car door flying open and her feet hit the ground in one move. But the second officer, or so he appeared to be, was already standing there by the side with something held in his hands.

"Surprise!" yelled Gunny Tom, and discharged the pepper spray full in Revy's face.

"Aaaagh!" Revy crumpled to her knees clawing at her eyes. Gunny Tom grabbed her by the back of the neck and pitched her forward into the gravel. He spun and drove a knee into her lower back and grabbed a flailing arm. Revy couldn't stop coughing.

"We gotcha China girl," Gunny Tom crowed whipping out a pair of handcuffs. The handcuff clicked shut around her wrist and then the other. "That should keep you. If you whores hadn't turned around and drove right past the roadhouse we would never have caught up with you. Oh, and you didn't fool me with your little hand juggling with that gun. Dumb ass bitch-hog."

"Everything under control there Gunnar?" shouted the sheriff. "This one's not going to be a problem."

Gunny Tom hauled Revy roughly up and guided the stumbling girl towards the police cruiser. Blinded and choking from the pepper spray, Revy would have fallen again if the man hadn't been holding her up.

"In you go!" With a heave he tossed the unprepared Revy in the back seat of the police car. The back seat was covered in plastic sheeting and she came up hard against the far door

'C'mon over here boy, let's get this done," shouted the sheriff. Before Revy could get herself righted, Jasmin was thrown in on top of her. The car door slammed.

"Jas, Jas? I'm sorry, it got worse," Revy gasped. Jasmin was silent, a dead weight, motionless. Revy blinked rapidly, trying to clear the pepper spray out of her eyes, but they were almost completely swollen shut. But she could hear the slow drip of Jasmin's blood on the plastic before the car engine was revved up and taken out of neutral. The sheriff was turning around and heading back east.

"I'll give ol' Gilly a call about towing that whore's car," remarked the sheriff. He turned the cruiser around and headed back up the road.

Using Jasmin as cover, Revy slid the bobby pin out of a back pocket. The metal clip had never graced Revy's hair and had no rubber ends. The cuffs had been ratcheted tight, but she had nothing better to do.

--

Gunny Tom hauled Revy out of the backseat and boxed her ears..

"Look at this Uncle Charlie!" he twisted the bobby pin out of Revy's fingers before she could conceal it. "China girl's full of tricks! Boy howdie, won't ol' Chop Top get a kick out of this, he always said them Asian girls were too smart for their own good…"

The sheriff grunted; he was pulling the limp form of Jasmin out the back. The blond haired girl slid to the ground. The front of her jacket was soaked in blood. "Tell you what son, use the plasti-cuffs if you ain't gonna dispose of that one right away."

Revy twisted and spit. "Motherfuckers, I'll kill you, I'll kill you all," she choked out. Gunny Tom laughed and kicked her in the stomach so she curled up retching in the dirt.

The sheriff had parked the car in back lot of the big shabby colonnaded house by a big metal shed, scattering the wandering chickens. Now a diminutive girl sauntered out of the garage door of the shed, the mass of shaggy black hair bouncing up and down with each step.

"Morning, cousin Fred-Fred," greeted Gunny with a whoop. "We got guests for dinner. Neither of these girls go to school with you do they?"

Both the sheriff and Gunny burst into laughter, but the girl they called Fred-Fred showed no emotion. She squatted down on her haunches and dug her fingers into Revy's matted hair. There was a surprising strength in the grip as she bent Revy's head back and examined the new arrival with a clinical dispassion.

Revy could barely focus on the powder white face that swam before her vision, the effects of the pepper spray lingering. Blinking rapidly, she struggled to stare down the sapphire blue eyes and their cool regard. But the girl seemingly lost interest and released her hold. Quickly pulling down her sleeves to cover the fresh scars neatly arrayed on her wrists, the girl turned slowly away and walked towards the back porch of the house.

"Damnit Fred-Fred, one of these days, you'll wish you had talked more," Sheriff Hoyt raised his voice in exasperation. "Well, she's home schooled anyway, haw – she schools herself! We don't want a girl as bright as her associating with the likes of you trash."

--

Footsteps padded against the aged wood of the back porch, the screen door screeching as it opened. A head of messy black hair poked into the house, dark blue eyes scanning the interior for occupants. The coast was clear. The door released another high-pitched wail before a small click was heard, the little girl who was "affectionately" called Fred-Fred calmly shutting it behind her.

Her steps were light, careful not to make the floor creak, her body slightly hunched over in caution, eyes still observing her surroundings. Tattered rugs on top of rotting wooden floors, an occasional cobweb on an odd knick knack or an antique, chipping paint and faded wallpaper peeling off of the walls, dark stains forming blobs and splatters on the worn furniture, menacing meat hooks dangling from the ceiling, several decorative ornaments made from bones, the entire house reeked of mildew and blood.

Little Fred-Fred straightened her posture, pursing her lips together as her eyes took a nonchalant tone. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

She silently tread through the house, wanting to reach the attic without attracting the unwanted attention of the family. It had become something of a habit, sneaking around the homestead. It was a self-taught skill she had acquired in all of the years she lived on the ranch, manifested from an overwhelming desire to isolate herself from her degenerate relatives.

The large staircase came into her view, indicating that she was only half-way away from her intended destination.

Suddenly, a white flash appeared out of nowhere, momentarily blinding the young girl.

"Ha ha! That'll be five bucks, Fred-Fred!" The obnoxious laughter of the offender echoed throughout the hallway as the small girl rubbed her eyes. She opened them by several centimeters, forming an annoyed glare as she looked up at the man who had caused her discomfort. The man had dark, greasy hair, a rough stubble, crooked, yellow teeth, stagnant breath, a green right eye and a white left eye; it was Uncle Alfredo. He held a camera in one hand as he shook a Polaroid picture in the other. He then held the photograph up towards the ceiling and whistled, seemingly impressed with his work.

"Well, goddamn, Fred-Fred! You look just like a ghost. How about we sell this to the newspapers and make a quick buck? People love that haunted house shit!" Fred-Fred's said nothing in return, her expression remained the same.

"Ah, them fuckers wouldn't take it anyway," Alfredo smirked as he ripped the photo in half, carelessly tossing the pieces behind him, "Nubbins is prob'ly out scrapin' roadkill off the pavement, wants some fresh materials for his artwork. And it was his turn to take photos today. Fuckin' bastard." Unaffected by Fred-Fred's angry stare, Alfredo knelt down on one knee and made eye contact, smiling lewdly as he jiggled the camera up and down.

"How 'bout you come with your ol' uncle Alfredo down to the roadhouse and take some photos? It'll be fun."

Fred-Fred's lip curled in disgust. She stormed past her lecherous uncle and swiftly ran up the stairs, stomping as she did so. Alfredo stood up, his smile widening.

"Hell, Fred-Fred! Yer not gonna get a good grade in photography class if ya don't take no pictures!" The man threw his hands up in the air and cackled madly, spinning in circles, greatly amused at his own joke.

Anger and annoyance prominently displayed on her face, her posture was rigid as she made her way towards the garret, passing by the multiple bedrooms and "storage rooms" on the second floor of the house. She resisted the urge to cringe as uncle Alfredo's laughter echoed throughout the house as he danced wildly in the living room. So much for avoiding unwanted attention.

Her agitation grew as her mind wandered with each step.

Her family frustrated her: Insane, sadistic individuals, asinine in nature and attitude, each and every one them possessing an odd quirk that grated Fred-Fred's senses. Her hippie Uncle Chop Top with his fixation on music, he was prone to Vietnam flashbacks and musing about napalm. Uncle Tech and his utter fascination with technology, he was constantly talking about the almighty "Chrome Machine God" that controlled the universe. Her hitchhiking Uncle Nubbins had an obsession with creating sculptures and the like from corpses. Uncle Drayton had an affinity for cooking, sometimes forcing little Fred-Fred to help him sell his "special chili" and "mystery meat barbecue" at the gas station. Uncle Charlie with his facade as a sheriff, he was a glorified bully. Uncle Alfredo, he was no more than a disgusting lecher with a deliberate speech impediment. The ancient "Grandpa," her great-grandfather, the horribly decrepit man who had spawned the accursed Sawyer family bloodline, he was literally a living corpse, well over one hundred years old; Fred-Fred wouldn't doubt he made a deal with the devil for eternal life. "Mama," her grandmother, wheelchair-bound and delusional, a seemingly kind old woman who greeted every "guest" with a smile, her manner of speaking was eerie, a result of the use of her electronic voice box. Just to name a few members of the family...

Then there was her cousin, Gunnar.

As the door that led to stairs leading to the attic came into her line of vision, little Fred-Fred's nails dug into the palms of her hands. "Gunny Tom" Sawyer, the relative whom she felt the most contempt and utter revulsion towards at the mere mention of his name. Having a poor level of intelligence, a rock had an impressive I.Q. compared to that of Gunny Tom. The most repulsive _thing_ that inhabited the earth, Gunnar was a despicable creature, the epitome of depravity. A nauseating person of the body and spirit, he reeked of cheap booze and decay. The only features that outranked his revolting appearance of stringy black hair and unnaturally sharp facial attributes were the hideous contents of his soul –or whatever passed for a soul. His eyes were always tinted with a perverse glint, wretched, lurid, frightening, utterly unstable and demonic. Fred-Fred's overwhelming hatred of Gunnar was only matched by her fear of him.

Opening the door, Fred-Fred quickly shut it behind her and ran up the final flight of steps. Reaching the top of the staircase and finally standing in the garret, the small girl dashed across the room and dove into the dilapidated mattress sitting on the floor in the corner, burying her head into the pillow. She lay face-down on top of her shabby bed for several seconds, trying to relieve herself of the thoughts of her asinine family and the frustration they caused her.

Calming down, she turned over onto her back and gazed at the wooden rafters on the ceiling, now clutching the pillow to her chest. Fred-Fred's sapphire blue eyes wandered about the garret. The window was covered with a thick layer of dirt and dust, nearly blocking all of the sunlight from entering, tinting the attic a dreary gray-ish blue. Stray skulls, ribs, femurs, vertebra, bones of every kind were scattered all over the floor, several of Uncle Nubbin's "sculptures" adorning much of the area. The preserved corpse of Fred-Fred's great-grandmother rested peacefully in an old rocking chair, staring at her from across the room. The diminutive girl closed her eyes and exhaled. Yes, she felt at ease here.

The shabby garret was her home away from home, a private reprieve from her severely demented family. Often, she would retreat to the confines of the attic whenever her twisted relatives indulged in butchering their "guests," easily tuning out the blood-curdling screams and idiotic laughter below. Death and dismemberment didn't bother her in the slightest, but frankly, the moronic behavior of her family just made the entire event boring and tasteless. Fred-Fred couldn't stand monotony.

She lifted the upper half of her body, holding her legs to her chest, resting her head atop her knees in thought. Speaking of monotony, her day was turning out to be uneventful. Fred-Fred had spent the entire morning butchering chickens and she had hoped that Uncle Charlie had at least brought in _something_ that would put an end to her boredom. Instead, she was greeted with her idiot cousin, Gunnar, and the all-too-familiar sight of unwilling victims. The moment she had stared into the Chinese girl's eyes, the urge to retreat to the attic was almost instant; she knew another routine murder was going to take place. It was nothing new to her.

Feeling a dull pang of weariness, Fred-Fred directed her attention towards the small bookcase next to her mattress. Perhaps a little bit of reading would take her mind off of the monotonous events. Her hand drifted along the spines of the books, absentmindedly browsing her personal library. Most, if not _all_, of the books were "gifts" from the unwilling guests that had been brought into the homestead, items Fred-Fred had harvested from discarded bags and the seats of damaged vehicles. The contents of her library varied. It was a mix of novels, biographies, guides, manuals, textbooks, pamphlets, brochures, atlases, dictionaries, an encyclopedia or two; everything ranged from astrology, divination and witchcraft to several versions of the Holy Bible, biographies on historical figures to the written works of philosophers such as Sartre, Nietzsche, Dostoevsky and others, stories of fairy tales and folklore to novels of romance and horror. Her personal favorites in the self-made library were the stories of Gothic fiction, heavily engrossed in dark details that twisted the story with a tainted, almost ethereal feeling, a fine balance of horror and sophistication. Fred-Fred was also rather fond of the detailed anatomy textbook she had acquired several weeks ago, as well.

Her pale hand floating along the articles, it came to an abrupt stop as Fred-Fred noticed a particular book. It was hardcover book with slightly dented corners, no more than 100 pages worth of information, most of it containing photographs and illustrations; it was a travel guide of sorts. Tilting her head to the side, lips slightly parted, she slowly pulled out the book and reclined on the ratty mattress, opening the guide. She browsed through it, images ranging from ancient castles and busy cities to fields of flowers and exotic rainforests.

She stopped flipping through the pages as a specific picture caught her attention. It wasn't very much to behold compared to the other images in the book, but it was a photograph that had entranced the precocious child ever since she had obtained the guide.

It was a tropical setting in a city, a single palm tree silhouetted against a couple of thin cables and small buildings in the distance, various shades of orange, yellow, and red painted across the sky as the sun set on the horizon. A pale finger lightly traced down the page, dark blue eyes becoming half-lidded and clouded, a subtle sense of longing within them.

Fred-Fred reflected on the land she inhabited. A rural area filled with an abundance of dirt and shrubs, it was literally the middle of nowhere. Ever since she could remember, she always had a desire to leave. Leave her family, leave the ranch, leave this dull and _empty_ atmosphere... She never truly felt like she belonged there, as though there was some other place in the world calling out for her, waiting for her arrival.

The sapphire spheres suddenly displayed a mixed expression of wrath and anguish, a loud snapping noise reverberating throughout the garret as Fred-Fred angrily shut the book closed and threw it against the wall, curling her small body into a ball. What was she thinking? It'd take a damned miracle to break free. She was bound, _trapped_ in this miserable place. She was never going to leave.

--

Flies buzzed around Jasmin. The girl lay crumpled near the side workbench, by a pile of garden tools: shovels, pitchforks and such. Revy knelt not far away, her hands restrained behind a metal post, close by an old tractor. Her eyesight had almost recovered from the effects of the pepper spray. She desperately wanted to pee, but wasn't ready to give her captors the satisfaction.

Shoving her back against the post, she twisted her elbows to the side and pulled her hands into view. The two interlocking nylon strips had been cinched tight, cutting into the wrists; she was starting to lose feeling in both hands. Unfamiliar with the plasti-cuffs, she was at a loss on how to get them removed. And the bobby pin had been taken away.

A gust blew in through the open garage door. Revy had a clear view, intentional no doubt, of the back porch. Chains jingled overhead and Revy craned her head up, shivering from the morning cold and looked up towards the ceiling at the row of rusty meat hooks hanging down. Behind, a smaller room was built into the building, the door open to show a metal table and an array of saws and knives. Revy felt a wave of sweat drench her skin. She wanted to howl. The morning sun was shining outside, but midnight was here now.

Jasmin groaned. The girl's eyes blinked. An outstretched hand curled, fingernails scratching on the concrete through the oil and dirt stains.

"Jas, Jas! Over here! I'm over here!" Revy lurched as far as she could, straining towards Jasmin. With an effort she tried not to shout. "I'm here, please look at me."

"I want my Mom," said Jasmin clearly. She didn't move.

"Jas, please, please," Revy babbled. Suddenly she was deathly afraid of the house, she didn't want to see the back porch door open. "They're going to kill us. We're so totally fucked. Please you gotta help me, get me free and I promise I'll get us out of here. I so totally promise I'll make it better."

"I think I'm gonna die," said Jasmin. Her eyes closed.

"NO! No, no, you're not dead," Revy held back on the scream welling up inside, the tears coursing down her cheeks weren't from the pepper spray. "Get up, please get up. Goddammit, get up, get up! You gotta fight."

Jasmin rose, her entire body shaking. On her hands and knees she began to crawl slowly towards Revy.

The screen door opened. Gunny Tom stepped out and then paused on the step. He turned and shouted something back into the bowels of the house.

"Oh shit!" Revy twisted frantically. "Jas, I got it, I got it! The lighter. Get the lighter in your jacket pocket. Get it out, get it out now. C'mon you can do it."

The screen door slammed shut with a bang. Gunny Tom was walking slowly towards the shed. His hair blew in the wind.

Jasmin stopped. Painfully she pulled her legs beneath so she was kneeling facing Revy. Only her sharp little nose showed through the long blond hair obscuring her face. Each labored breath left a cloud of condensation around her head in the cold air. Slowly she fumbled inside her coat, pulled out the pack of cigarettes. She dropped the cigarettes after a moment's dazed inspection and fumbled for the yellow bic lighter.

"Throw it to me please," begged Revy. With a tight constricted flick of the wrist, a motion that almost upset the stricken Jasmin, she sent the lighter spinning towards Revy.

The lighter rolled by and came up against the metal post. Revy's hand groped for and found the plastic tube.

Gunny Tom came in the garage door; a black silhouette with the rising sun behind him. He stooped and picked up a shovel leaning against the door-frame.

"Look at me Jasmin," shrieked Revy, trying to throw herself forward, the post cutting into her restrained forearms. "Look at me, just at me, don't look back."

"It's your fault," murmured Jasmin.

"You're supposed to be dead," said Gunny Tom. He swung the shovel over his head and with a twist of his hips swung the flat of the blade down. He straddled Jasmin and used the edge. "Stay dead."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 -The Man with the Mask**

A recurring pattern of thuds reached Fred-Fred's ears. She lifted her head off of her knees, looking towards the entrance of the attic. Someone was coming up the stairs. Damn it, she must have forgotten to lock the door in her hurry to get away. Her body instinctively tensed, but her muscles soon relaxed as she realized who had come up the steps.

A massive, terrifying figure of a man, a good bulk of his body composed of muscle, his attire consisted of tattered slacks, a dirty dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a leather apron stained with blood. She could barely make out his face from where he was standing, but she knew who it was.

Walking through the valley of bones on the floor, the man stepped closer to where Fred-Fred sat. Closing the distance between them, the menacing figure knelt down in front of the small girl. Fred-Fred was finally able to see his face.

A greasy, unkempt mess of black hair framed his head, his wide eyes staring at the young girl on the mattress, his mouth agape, head tilted, most of his nose was absent, revealing a severe deformity that had eaten away at his face.

"You're not wearing your mask," stated Fred-Fred softly, her voice surprisingly lacking the Southern drawl the rest of her family spoke with.

The man uttered a cross between a whine and a groan, incapable of coherent speech, an obvious hint to his poor mental state. He began to pet the girl on the head. Fred-Fred understood the gesture as a question.

"I'm fine," she said, brushing his bulky hand away with her smaller, fragile one. He must have heard the loud snap of when she had closed the book and tossed it against the wall, mildly worrying him. Noticing the somber look in Fred-Fred's eyes, the monstrous figure of a man groaned once again, standing up and walking over to her dresser, retrieving something, his large person blocking her view. He came back to Fred-Fred, holding a doll wearing a pink dress, a macabre creation composed from the skeleton of an infant. He pushed it towards the diminutive girl, encouraging her to take it.

"I told you, I'm fine. I don't feel like playing with Sally right now," said Fred-Fred, gently refusing the offer. The man's head sank against his shoulders, carelessly tossing the doll aside into a pile of bones.

Reaching towards the precocious girl, he began to pet her once more, running his thick fingers through the shaggy mass of black hair. Fred-Fred didn't bother with brushing his hand away again, allowing him to pet her for the time being.

As frightening as he was at first glance, the deformed monster of a man was really the only family member Fred-Fred felt no contempt towards. Unlike her other relatives, his mannerisms and attitudes were not manifested from _deliberate_ stupidity. It was plain to see that the man was mentally retarded, an affliction since birth. It was something he had no control over.

It came as no surprise that he was often abused and ridiculed by the other members of the Sawyer family. Fred-Fred had endured her fair share of relentless teasing from her relatives, be it for her pale appearance or outright refusal to speak to them, but the level of abuse she suffered was only matched by the torment endured by the deformed man in front of her. A beaten dog received better treatment than he did. She felt sorry for him.

Though Fred-Fred never admitted it aloud, she felt some level of enjoyment whenever she saw him hunting down "prey" that had somehow managed to escape from the homestead, the thrill of the chase as she heard the roar of his chainsaw enticing her; it was the only time she ever saw the man break free of his childlike state of mind.

In all honesty, the monstrous man was an overgrown baby, whining and throwing a tantrum whenever he was afraid of something or simply didn't get his way. He didn't know any better. He was incapable of taking care of himself. Little Fred-Fred looked after him, taking on the responsibility of being his caretaker.

He proved to be annoying to look after from time to time, even _frustrating_, but Fred-Fred never had any feelings of hatred against him. He was the only member of the family that didn't intentionally tease and torment her, and because of this, he was the only one she felt comfortable talking to.

However, being his caretaker was also a responsibility that saddened her. There was absolutely no way he could survive here all alone. She was only person in the the family who showed him a small glimmer of kindness, the only person who made an effort to make him happy. She couldn't leave him with this clan of sadists all by himself. There were some days Fred-Fred wished she could run away and take him with her, but she knew that would only create a new set of problems for them to deal with.

The scenario played out in her head. There was no doubt the deformed man would be frightened by the "outside world" and end up going on a killing spree, triggered by overwhelming fear. It would only be a matter of time before his acts would result in the forming of an angry mob, armed with the dangerous combination of rage and weapons. They would chase the massive beast of a man, hunting him, killing him. Fred-Fred sighed. Either way, she just couldn't leave. She was trapped.

The man stopped petting her head and began to tug at the shoulder of her shirt. Fred-Fred blinked in response. What did he want? The man pointed to the window, then towards the entrance/exit of the garret.

"Outside?" asked Fred-Fred, "You want to go and play outside?" The man nodded with a high-pitched groan and grabbed her by her wrist, pulling her up to her feet as he stood up. She pulled her arm out of his grasp.

"I don't think we should go," she reasoned, "Uncle Charlie brought guests. They're probably busy in the shed. We shouldn't bother them." Fred-Fred tried to hide her discomfort. The true reason she didn't want to go outside was because she knew Gunnar was in the shed. A sense of nausea welled up in her stomach as she imagined his loud, grating voice singing off-key as he dismembered the bodies.

The large man whined, pounding the air with his palms and stomping his feet up and down, breaking a few bones on the floor as he did so. He was throwing a tantrum. Fred-Fred sighed, defeated.

"Okay, we'll play outside, but only for a little while," she said, not wanting him to tear the attic apart. He stopped stomping and uttered a sound of glee, obviously content with Fred-Fred's agreement. Placing her small, pale hand around a large, bulky thumb, the diminutive girl led the massive male down the stairs.

"We'll go out through the back door. You probably left your mask by the porch again. I'll help you put it on, Daddy."

--

"I was going to start with rape and sodomy," Gunny Tom said caressing Revy's cheek. He was breathing heavily. "But, death and dismemberment always come first. It's a family thing."

She turned her head away. Gunny Tom chuckled. "You're a trashy little animal. The second I saw you sashay with that piss poor attitude into the roadhouse, I knew I'd have to bring you home. You make me all weak inside, all sort of twitchy. You and your girlfriend here, no one will miss ya. She was just the warm-up."

The man stood up and tossed the shovel aside with a clatter by the tractor. "Speaking of that, I better clean up." He bent over and grabbed the ankle of the corpse and pulled. The mangled head slid by. Gunny Tom was dragging Jasmin to the back room for disposal. Revy's face contorted.

Revy was incapable of thought or action until the whine of the buzz saw started. Then she shifted as best she could around the pole so her actions were blocked from Gunny Tom's view if he chose to look out the door of the small room. She was able to position her arms around so she could see her hands and the lighter. With her thumb she flicked the button.

The nylon began to burn slowly, too slowly, with a smell like plastic. There was a puff of smoke and Revy dropped the lighter with a wince and a frantic look. She picked up the lighter and started over, and finally with a twist was able to snap the strips. She was free.

Gunny Tom was out of sight in the back room, there was a clatter of tools and the horrible sound of something being spilled into a bucket, the man was singing in an off-key tone. The open doorway beckoned, a quick sprint across an open field and to the cover of the woods. Revy coiled her legs underneath ready to bolt and looked at the bloody smear on the dirty concrete.

"The hell," she muttered.

She crawled over to the pile of tools by the workbench and picked up a pitchfork. The Gangster Disciples would have been proud of her choice of weaponry. Moving as quietly as she could she sidled to the back of the shed.

"… Break another little bit of my heart now darlin' yeah, yeah, yeah," Gunny Tom broke out into song, his voice rising. "You know you got it, if it makes ya feel good! Yeah, it sure does…"

Revy stood and pressed up against the wall of the back room. She was opposite the open door. She flexed her fingers against the handle of the pitchfork as feeling returned to them. She raised the thick rusty prongs. The middle one was broken, barely a quarter the length of the outer two. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

"Come on, come on, come on!" warbled Gunny Tom. "Hey, China girl? You like my singing? Come on, come on..." Revy's lips curled, keep singing, you won't know what hit you, she thought

The meat-hooks hanging from the roof of the metal shed clanked together. Revy lowered the pitchfork like a lance and spun around the door jam, digging the toe of her lead foot into the ground like she was putting out a cigarette.

Gunny Tom was partially turned away from the door at the front of the table. He had put on a leather apron that was soaked through with gore and viscera. The man held something dark red and soft in his hands as he stepped back from the table, aware too late of Revy's charge.

"Come uuuuuuaggh!" Revy thrust the pitchfork with a maniacal strength into his abdomen. The leather apron provided no protection as the prongs tore into Gunny Tom, puncturing the muscles and intestines. The impact almost tore the pitchfork from her grasp, but she kept driving with her legs, using the momentum of her lunge to push the man back into the wall.

"Stick around," Revy snarled, twisting the handle down enthusiastically as Gunny Tom tried to scream but could only muster a pathetic gasp. Whatever the man had held in his white knuckled hands now dropped to the floor in bloody red strips. She quickly wedged the handle of the pitchfork against the thick metal leg of the table, pinning the man against the wall.

Jasmin? What had he done to Jasmin? Against her better judgment Revy looked over at the desecrated body spread on top of the table. She threw up instantly, stumbling about in a berserk dance, the vomit dripping between the fingers raised to her mouth. Something ravenous and dark and insane crawled into her mind then.

"You took her eyes, you shit!" She stepped inside his grasp, letting the desperate man pull her close to him - his hands tearing at the back of her jacket. But her arms were raised up in front like a mantis, the wrists curled forward so she could gouge his eyes out.

Now Gunny Tom screamed as her left thumb thrust into the right eye socket and tore across. He whipped his head away from the violent intrusion and saved the other eye from a similar fate. Revy was thrown back against the table.

Revy's thoughts were in fragments: Gunny Tom; convulsively flailing about and shrieking. Jasmin; torn and ruined on the table. She was out the door, bursting out the open entry of the shed into the back lot, skidding to a halt, blinking stupidly at the light and at the two figures by the porch stairs.

A large hulk of a man had his back turned to the shed. Fred-Fred's pale face peered over one of the massive shoulders. She was standing on the flat top of a tree stump, on tip toes, one hand on the man's shoulders. As Revy stumbled out into the lot, Fred-Fred reacted quickly. She barked a command and hopped off the stump, picking up a chainsaw propped against it.

The man swung around. The last of Revy's sanity dribbled away. The man's face was covered by a patchwork mask of cured flesh. Fred-Fred handed the man the chainsaw.

Something skipped in Revy's head. She was pelting down the driveway, away from the house, legs and arms pumping. Looking back, she saw the two come around the corner of the house, trotting together side by side in pursuit as if this was an everyday chore. Giggling hysterically, she plunged into the cut rows of the cornfield and made for the woods.

Branches slashed at the girl's face, she flailed wildly and stumbled on a log. Looking back she saw they were closing the gap. The chainsaw coughed and roared to life in the hands of the leather-faced man as he bore down on her. Revy wasn't a distance runner, she clutched her side gasping. Perhaps smoking wasn't a good life choice. "Bam, bam, kapow," she choked , pointing a finger back at the two pursuers.

She broke out of the undergrowth and reeled up to the edge of a shallow slope overlooking a dark boggy morass. Her foot flew out from under her as she slid on a patch of still frozen earth and rolled down cursing. She tumbled into the cold water among the reeds.

The bog was shallow. Revy floundered about, unable to stand up, stirring up the thick mud into a chocolate-tan froth. Trying to push up from the bottom her hand gripped an irregularly shaped object, probably a rock. She pulled the object up from the muck with the intent to use it as a last defense.

It was a skull. Several leeches clung to the empty eye-sockets. The flesh had been picked clean. "Of course it's a skull," Revy tittered, shuddering violently. Something broke to the surface and rolled in the water beside her. A severed torso with one arm partially attached. The stench was overwhelming, like stale flatulence.

A muffled roar came from above. Revy didn't look up, hugging the skull to her breast. The leather-faced man had slipped on the same patch of frozen dirt and likewise came rolling down the slope. The chainsaw flew through the air with an angry buzz and splashed into the bog, cutting off suddenly. Water sprayed as the leather faced man tumbled in within arms length of Revy.

Fred-Fred capered, waving her arms about wildly. She was yelling something incomprehensible, eyes bugging out. Revy swung the skull and broke it over the leather-faced man's head as he thrashed about in the muck. Then she lurched out of the bog and staggered up to the frantic girl on the shore.

"He can't swim!" Fred-Fred shrieked.

Revy dropped Fred-Fred with a punch to the jaw.

--

The gasoline pump dinged, the man pulled the nozzle out of the fuel tank of the red Honda CBX motorcycle. In the distance there was the approaching wail of a police siren. The man glanced up, the helmet dangling from the other hand.

The girl scrabbled up from the drainage ditch and staggered across the parking lot of the gas station. She was Asian, probably sixteen and thin. The scuffed leather jacket and torn blue jeans were plastered with drying mud, the sole of one sneaker flopped with each step; strands of matted hair hung over bloodshot eyes. The man couldn't decide if the girl was smiling or snarling when she walked up to him.

"Give me that," she snapped and grabbed the fuel dispenser out of his hands. The next moment, he was cursing, jumping away as she doused him with fuel.

"Keys, helmet now. Otherwise I torch ya'," she flicked a lighter that suddenly appeared in her hands. "I don't have time asshole. NOW!"

The police car came to a scrunching halt at the end of the dirt access road across the field from the gas station. The tall dark shadowed figure of the sheriff got out and stood by the car. The road was too well traveled, the pursuit had come to an end.

Revy left a trail of smoking rubber and a cloud of exhaust in her wake. She revved the engine up, ran the clutch full throttle and headed west.

**Next Update: April 24th - "Copycat" - sorry for the break**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - Copycat**

_- Roanapur_

"This is really bad," the boy said grimly. "The big man's in front. Alak and Chaiyo saw Two-hands herself heading into the back alleyway a while ago and put out the alarm. I don't know what we can do. Two-hands is sober and means business We should leave."

Gaavrila peered around the parked auto-rickshaw. "No. We have to get Niken out before those men hurt her. Niken's an idiot, but she's one of ours. We won't abandon her. Don't worry Parang, I'll take care of Two-hands... somehow."

"Are you crazy?" said Parang, aka "Machete," staring in surprise at Gaavrila.

"God is on my side," said Gaavrila with more confidence than she felt.

"So am I," said Parang.

--

"Hey _puta," _said Revy lazily, shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she leaned up against the wall. "Y'know, what I like about you, you like me... but not too much."

The soi dog's tail thumped. A black and tan mix she lay on her side in the dirt, head up on a broken flagstone.

"Don't mind me _puta," _Revy reached into a side pocket of her cut-offs and fumbled with a small clear plastic packet. "I'm the poster girl for bad behavior. I've gotta chase the dragon."

Revy slid down the wall and squatted carefully, the tips of her scuffed boots pointed in either direction. She rested the bandaged forearm against the top of her bare thigh. She'd taken some abuse lately: the freaking Aisin Gioro with their penchant for tasers and nooses, and the final indignity; _Anego's _men shooting her and Shenhua.

Damn, she'd never give Balalaika respect again. There was a faint crackle of static in the ear-piece she wore. Revy sighed heavily. She hated waiting.

What she wanted more than anything was to go kinetic. Two hours of waiting in the shadows of a back alleyway. She didn't enjoy this kind of work. The only consolation was that Dutch was enduring the same, but he wasn't the one lurking in the alleyway with the trash.

The small pills were brightly colored. They crumbled in her mouth tasting of grape candy, the texture gritty. She swallowed.

"Don't be judging me," said Revy to the dog who watched her movements intently. "Let the asshole do that."

It wouldn't take long for the meth and caffeine mixture to kick in. Yaba was a powerful stimulant that would keep her jacked up for a good two days minimum before she'd crash.

Revy did an automatic scan. Nothing: an empty alleyway overflowing with refuse that smelled of garbage and piss. She crouched by a section of chain link fence that didn't serve any purpose. Somewhere close by, there was the clatter of dishes and the sound of a TV being turned on. It bothered Revy immensely that barely two streets away was the nondescript building where she had a room. She was working in her own backyard. She closed her eyes and after a while thought about death.

"_These photos stink! I can't sell them!" the muscular, blonde haired man rifled through the pictures and flung them up in the air. He glared at the rows of polaroid pictures stuck on the wall. "Fuck, do I have to do this myself Mutha'?"_

_The fucking bitch bit me!" protested Mutha'. "I can kick and punch the little cunt all day, and she just don't work out. I tell you, she's a bad girl!"_

_Rebecca lay twitching in the corner of the filthy basement._

_Stereo Slim whistled between his teeth. He started to straighten out the photos and then stopped "Ah fuck it. Have some fun with her. She don't get it, then we'll do our first snuff film. Never done that before..." _

Revy smiled viciously at the images in her mind. Mutha' had died choking on his own blood. Stereo Slim had pulled an Olympic worthy high dive into a parking lot. She could still hear the sound. You got snuffed you sick bastards, she thought.

_Her right leg was broken. She was face-down in a sludgy mixture of snow and dirt somewhere off a parking lot near the Henry Hudson Highway in upper Manhattan. Her pants had been pulled down around her knees. She was in so much pain it was beyond endurance. Blood was coming out of her ears, her eyes, her mouth, her ass. _

"_Please... god, I'll do anything, please don't kill me. Tell my stepfather I won't talk," the teenaged girl whimpered as the blows from the nightsticks began again. There was no way to protect herself, her hands were handcuffed behind her back. She heard the snap as an arm broke and then another and finally screamed into the slush._

"_We're done. Kill her," she heard one of the policemen say in the darkness above her. _

_The bullets slammed into her..._

"Shit," muttered Revy. No god, no pity.

_The gun caught in the holster as she flung herself back away from the car. The Japanese man leaned out and and stitched her up the midsection as she tried to roll away in the dirt._

_The sky above Basilan was blue... so blue. What had happened to Rock? There were two masked men standing above as her life oozed out of her. She heard the distinctive racking sound of an AK-47 and closed her eyes..._

Her lips compressed tightly, they turned white. Now she was imagining things.

"_Macaroni, borscht," chanted Hansel cheerfully. Revy was tied to a chair and screaming at the unreality of it all. Hansel or was it Gretel? pushed the knife slowly into her midsection and started sawing. Her entrails began to spill out in her lap. The eyes of the Romanians reflected like cats in the dim light._

"_Let's have Chinese takeout!" chimed in the other as Gretel or Hansel thrust his or her other hand into the open wound and groped up and towards her frantically beating heart.._

Or...

_Liling was vomiting by the side of the bed as Lifeng finished sawing. Revy's throat was raw as she howled in agony, the noose tight against her neck. Her vision was red from broken blood vessels in her eyes._

"_Do you want to keep your hands?" asked Lifeng coolly, dropping the bloodied hacksaw on the floor. "We'll just leave them over here on the dresser. Do you want the left on top or the right? Should we put them side by side? That would be tidy."_

Her heart was pounding rapidly, either from the yaba or her overactive imagination. Involuntarily, a hand went to protect her throat. What a mistake, one should never think too deeply on the consequences gone bad. And now, unwanted and unwelcome, came the one she feared more than all the others...

"_It's exactly midnight," said the masked creature that sat patiently beside her in the darkness. But she could barely follow the words. She felt drugged, inert. Something had gone terribly wrong._

"_What did you expect?" it continued turning it's head towards her. The mask was cured leather, but the shadowed eyes were a recognizable blue. "You fucked up Two-hands."_

"_Take off the mask," Revy said and with an immense effort reached out to touch the mask. She had to know. It crumbled at her touch, like an eggshell._

_Hands, so many rough hands, they were pulling her out of the darkness into the flat light. A wind blew with a gentle warmth. Wobbling, she looked around the metal pylons and struts of the bridge and knew._

"_An... Anego, If it's midnight... why is the sun shining?" she slurred as the Russian swept the remnants of the mask away from her scarred face._

_"The sun doesn't shine for you," said Balalaika._

"No, no, no," whined Revy. The taste of bile rose in her throat. Her hands shook violently. The yaba must have been spiked with acid or LSD or she was finally having the nervous breakdown that was long past overdue.

She was the walking dead. It was just a matter of timing. What was it anyway? A brief moment and then everything in sight, sound, smell and memory would curl up like burning paper in a fire and collapse in on itself as all the neurons in her brain blew out in one stroboscopic flash. No midnight riders would show up to ride off with her in some pathetic childhood fantasy.

Physically her body, if intact and not in pieces would twitch for a few seconds, the bowels and bladder emptying involuntarily. Maybe her corpse would spasm one last time as her lungs filled up with blood from the gunshot trauma and it would utter one final death rattle.

Rock would kneel down sometime afterwards. She'd lie twisted in the gutter, the body would be oddly shrunken, almost deflated, a loose sack of meat and bones that in the heat of Thailand would rapidly bloat and discolor in a matter of hours, the blood darkening the flesh where it made contact with the ground. Revy would no longer be pretty with the side of her head blown off. The tongue would poke out from between her lips, the pupils would be fully dilated – nothing behind the darkness.

What then? Rock would probably stand up, his eyes would be dry and cold, he wouldn't have to wipe away any stray tears. He would speak in his precise, matter of fact tone. "We both knew it was going to happen. It's time to go back to Japan and my desk job - find myself a nice, proper wife and start a family. She was a bad, bad girl. A monster to the end."

If she was lucky, Dutch might have the remains cremated – not that anyone would show up to mourn her passing. Most likely the U.G. Pork van would come clattering and belching down the avenue and that wretched goth-girl would appear on cue. Maybe there would even be a creepy little capuchin monkey in a costume as a side show for the bystanders. And Sawyer would simper in anticipation, the pointy teeth showing between her blood red lips as she pulled the cord of the chainsaw.

Revy shook her head. The soi dog whined and thumped her tail. "It's okay girl, I'm okay. I think." She was going to have to hunt down the street vendor who had sold her the yaba and kneecap the bastard. Goddamn stuff was laced, she was totally fucked up and she was on the clock. Dutch would can her ass if she wasn't good to go.

"Revy, you there," Dutch's voice came rumbling through the ear-piece. "Thaksin, three bodyguards... and a girl – they just went in. Wait for my word. Remember, intimidate first – kill only if necessary. Keep it quiet. We want to get paid – and clients can't pay if they're dead."

"Got it, over," she wiped away the tears coursing down her cheeks. Fuck Roberta – rot in hell you bitch. Eda would howl with laughter if she saw her in this state. Self pity was for weaklings and the living. "Hold, I got problems. Company's coming"

Revy and the soi dog scrambled to their feet together and looked together around the end of the chain link fence as something moved jerkily around the corner and into the back of the alleyway. It squeaked and shuddered and came around a pile of garbage into the slanted rays of afternoon sunlight.

It was Wheelie; at least that's what Revy called her, never bothering to learn the girl's name. Her father had been part of the Russian influx that had brought Hotel Moscow to Roanapur how long ago? He had been an evangelist of all things, preaching the word of God and had provided the city a good laugh when he up and died of an aneurysm in the middle of a sermon denouncing the place as a hellhole. Balalaika had offered to send the girl back to St. Whateversburg at the funeral and for her pains got spit on.

The whisper on the street said it was Balalaika who had then ordered the crippling of Wheelie. The girl had vanished for almost three months, and then had reappeared in a homemade wheelchair, a box with mismatched bicycle wheels – a creation of the inventive Dr. Chiet who provided charity services to the castoffs of the city. She had continued her father's avocation, preaching to the indifferent in a hoarse, raspy shout on the streets of the city.

Wheelie had been pretty once. The tattered large shirt she wore as a dress only made one aware of how emaciated the teenager had become, barely surviving on handouts. What was left of her legs were wrapped stumps stuck out awkwardly in front of the box.

Revy stepped from the wall, the soi dog trotting alongside and strolled towards Wheelie. The girl was breathing heavily from the effort of moving the makeshift wheel-chair . Seemingly unaware of Revy's approach she frantically pulled her dirty hair tight with an elastic, a move that accentuated the sharpness of the nose and chin.

"_Dobryj dyen_," said Revy. The girl's head jerked up, the pale green eyes widening. Revy gulped involuntarily and felt a thrill go up her spine; the girl's face, the eyes, more unwanted memories that were interfering with the here and now.

"_How do you like Texas?"_

Revy lifted the heel of a boot and pushed against the rim of one of the mismatched bicycle wheels. The rickety wheel chair wobbled. "Turn your crappy little box around and get out of here. Nothing good's going to happen in a few minutes. You'll get hurt."

"Hellspawn! Cain's bitch!" the girl shrieked, her lip trembling. Fortunately, she sounded nothing like that dead girl from long ago. "You're nothing but a _sooka ebnataya! _You should get on your knees and repent now for your sins..."

"_Zavali yebalo_!" shouted Revy rocking the wheelchair with some vigor, almost upsetting the frightened girl out of the seat. The soi dog ran around them barking excitedly. "You talk to God with that mouth huh? I work for you people so don't mouth off to me in rusky, I'll give it right back to you."

One night at the Yellow Flag she had gotten the usually taciturn Boris to loosen up and he had taught her a few choice phrases and obscenities. And she had picked up more phrases from Rock since he was fluent in who knew how many languages.

"Revy," again it was Dutch. "Go. And there's something you..."

"Not yet, I'm busy," snapped Revy. She flicked the switch off and turned her full attention on the hapless Wheelie. "Get lost kid. If you're looking to preach, why don't you head down to the Rip-off Church, they're always looking for converts."

The response was surprising. Wheelie's features twisted in rage and she thrust her hand into one of the large rips of the shirt she wore. The girl had the rusty revolver barely free of the folds when Revy snatched the gun away and upended the wheelchair on the girl in a blur of movement. Wheelie tumbled into a pile of plastic and glass, but before she could react in any way Revy was stooping over her, the barrel of the revolver dug into the girl's cheek.

"Hey," said Revy. Her heart was pounding way too hard, and her index finger was trembling against the guard. She still had enough control not to go for the trigger. "Hey, hey, hey! You pull a gun on me, that changes everything. I only do last dances, never requests _da? _Maybe I speak to Balalaika about your attitude?"

Wheelie's eyes were squeezed shut, the side of her face was being pressed into a crushed soda can in the dirt. Her mouth opened, but the whispered reply was inaudible.

"I can't hear you," said Revy softly, putting weight on the gun barrel.

"_Da_! _Da_!"whispered the girl._ "_I sorry, I make mistake, please do not send me to Ms. Balalaika..."

"That's more like..." Revy ducked. A bottle flew by within inches of her head and smashed into fragments. There were angry shouts. Revy had let her awareness slip.

The six children had her and Wheelie surrounded; a mixed crowd of boys and girls in an odd assortment of tattered clothing. They danced around screeching and waving broken bottles and sticks. The largest boy hefted a machete with too much familiarity. The soi dog's tail flashed briefly as it bounded through the ranks of the children and made a hasty exit.

These were some of the outcasts of even Roanapur; one of the numerous gangs of street kids who barely survived off the waste and refuse of the city.

"Shut up!" shouted Revy standing up, and there was a collective shudder through the group as they fought the impulse to flee. She could feel their fear, of her. "You with the machete, back off."

"Leave Gaavrila alone, _jaao mae_!" the boy shouted, the machete shaking in his hand. Still he held his ground.

"So it's Gaavri huh," said Revy. She prodded the now weeping Russian girl with the tip of her boot which set off another wave of high pitched protests from the ragged defenders. "Damn, you kids are noisy. If you fucked the job up, I'll take it out on your hides."

Revy stepped back from Gaavrila, releasing the cylinder of the revolver and slapping the palm of her hand against the ejector rod. The ammo splashed into a puddle of sewage followed by the now unloaded gun.

"Take the cripple and get out of here," she said coldly to the boy. She turned and walked away. She reached up and flicked the headset back on. "Dutch, I'm going in the rear of the building in ten one-thousand, nine-one thousand, eight one-thousand..."

"Don't hurt Niken!" shouted Gavriila as the children picked up the Russian girl and straightened out the wheelchair.

"... seven one-thousand, six one-thousand, and five," counted Revy, her brow wrinkling. She stepped over a puddle of sewage and approached the back of the building. There was a doorway at floor level and two windows on the second floor.

"I swear you'll burn if you hurt Niken," the girl raged behind Revy. "Oh God, you'll burn and burn if you touch her! It will be your fault!"

Revy stumbled involuntarily, "Four, SHUT UP! One thousand,three one thousand," she was at the door. "Two one-thousand, Dutch – can I go in guns blazing?"

"No," was Dutch's response. "Play this low, they're expecting you, but not the way they think. Give our friend Thaksin a smile and a _wai_. I'll explain later."

Revy pouted. "Okay, fine then. I'll just knock and wiggle my hips. WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP BITCH!!!"

"What was that Revy?" Dutch again.

"Not you," snarled Revy. She pounded on the metal door. "Hey! Open up! Pizza delivery! Oh, never mind!"

The door had swung open at her touch, the entry way was unlocked. Revy stepped in and slid to the side so she wouldn't stand out against the light.

The hallway was deserted, a narrow flight of stairs led to the second level. Dutch loomed in the corridor at the front, shotgun in hand. When she pantomimed a shrug, he gestured silently to the stairs.

Gritting her teeth she led up the stairs. "I'll give them a smile alright."

Up to a landing with two closed doors. Loud music and yelling could be heard from one of the rooms. The door looked breakable. Revy preferred the direct approach; she tensed and readied a strong kick. Dutch moved up silently, out of sight on the bottom step.

The door opened. A large man, vaguely European with a shaved head stood there with a wide grin. He grasped a bottle in one hand. "We got another bitch! An older bitch, but that's alright! You look just like her! "

Revy bristled, but the man seized her by the arm and dragged her in. The apartment was small, two attached rooms. There was a couch with two men seated at a table in the center. The back room door was partially closed.

She yelped as he pawed at her butt. The man examined her with lustful admiration. "This one's even got toy guns! That Rowan knows how to suit up his girls."

One of the men on the couch looked up, eying the new arrival. His mouth sagged open. "Maurice! You moron! That's no whore! She's the real deal, kill her!"

Revy pushed away from the large man with a sliding step, immensely relieved as the usual dance began. Honestly, what had Dutch expected: negotiations? Bring Rock next time! The men on the couch went through various awkward contortions as they fumbled for weaponry that would do nothing to prolong their last few moments; the usual shouting and panic, the dismayed expressions of no consequence. She drew the Cutlass specials and killed the two on the couch with her usual speed and accuracy.

Revy pivoted towards the last bodyguard, the one called Maurice who had felt her up. The look on his face would have been priceless, except for the reason. He held a metal pin in one hand, a fumbled grenade was rolling on the floor.

"_If you're scared -- you'll lose!"_

"Dutch! Fire in the hole!"

As Revy shouted the warning, she took two quick steps and she leapt up and forward off the right foot. She brought the right knee forward, left leg coiling beneath and slammed into Maurice's chest with the _Hanuman Thayarn, _the flying knee strike. Both arms crossed with the chin tucked down.

The man weighed twice as much as Revy. Even with such a strike, the range was too close to knock the larger opponent down, and she didn't mean to. Instead she drove the sole of the trailing left boot into the Maurice's upper thigh, and recoiled off at an angle with enough height gained to clear the nearby couch. In air, she stabbed the right gun towards the hapless Maurice and blew out the side of his knee.

Revy tumbled behind the couch, covering her ears. On the other side Maurice cork-screwed and pitched forward, down onto the grenade.

Maurice managed a squeal before the grenade detonated. The explosion wasn't as loud as Revy had expected. The couch merely slid a bit. There were several wet thumps as body parts were flung into the walls and ceiling. The children in the back alleyway launched a chorus of wails and screams that were audible even inside..

Dutch stepped in, waving at the smoke. The shotgun was at the ready, but he lowered the barrel instantly. He shook his head at the carnage. "Damn, girl... I said keep it quiet. Now we have to call in the cleaner."

Revy peered over the edge of the couch. "They wouldn't negotiate," she protested, speaking rapidly. "But I'm betting Thaksin will pay up now."

She gestured with a gun barrel at the second room.

--

Their quarry was sprawled face-down on the floor, the shattered remnants of a lamp by his head.

She was at the large window, trying to open the bottom hung sash. The long black ponytail danced across the shoulders of the black tank top because of her exertions. She wore a tattered pair of cut-off blue jeans and a pair of untied military style boots. A duffel bag was slung across her back.

"Hey," said Revy at the doorway, blinking. Dutch looked over her shoulder.

She spun around, one hand to her mouth. The wide brown eyes widened in panic. She stepped back from the window.

"Oh, this is bullshit," said Revy, lowering the gun. "Now…"

The girl, a skinny teenager, spun the duffel bag around in front, lifting it up so the top protected her face. Legs churning, she ran at the window and leaped through feet-first with a crash.

Revy rushed over to the window and looked out. Figures flitted away into the shadows, the group of street children retreating to safety. The girl had incredibly made the jump uninjured and was among their number. Dutch knelt down by Thaksin who was starting to stir.

"Did you see that? Did you see that?" asked Revy breathlessly. "That was cool."

**NOTE: The events described here are supposed to happen after el Baile de la Muerte. Whether it fits in continuity is a matter of SOME concern, but we're going to take the chance. **

**Revy's abuse of yaba. See page 4 of Chapter 72. Sure, it's just aspirin... I posted a link in the "How to Survive in Roanapur" forum.**

**The non RH flashbacks are based off of events in "Gun Punk", "Eastern Jewel", and Moonlith's very dark tale "Omerta" with his permission.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – The Anti-lemon**

"You should have seen this girl," Revy said, sucking the cigarette greedily. She blew the smoke out in a rush.. "She was just like me, threw herself out a second floor window and kept running when she hit the ground."

"What else happened today?" asked Rock pulling off his shirt. He folded it carefully and placed it at the end of the bed. He picked up the tube of bacitracin zinc ointment.

"I took some bad crazy medicine, bullied a cripple, and made an injured man fall on a grenade," said Revy disingenuously. The ragged shorts fell to the floor. "I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or pizza to anyone, but they've always worked for me. We'll talk about biz later, okay?"

"Why do you include pizza?" said Rock. He placed the bag by the side of the bed.

"You're lactose intolerant. I'm not." Revy observed and pulled off her top with a supple stretch. It sailed through the air and out of sight between the bed and wall. She flicked the still smoldering cigarette butt onto a clear spot on the floor, bounced onto the bed and buried her face in the pillow. "Time to play doctor!"

"What?" Rock eased himself down beside and ran a finger up the length of the spine, from the elastic of the panties to the base of her skull. She shivered from his touch.

"You're always complaining I don't give details, so let's do the details – get yer hands in my hair."

After a moment Rock said, "Scar on the left side of your head."

"Courtesy of the NYPD." she murmured.

Both his hands caressed her neck, "There's still an abrasion here in the back."

"Aisin Gioro bitches." her fingers twitched and curled involuntarily.

His hands slid across her defined shoulders, his finger following the curve of black ink to the scar, "Bullet wound."

"Roberta," she turned her head and one eye looked out from underneath a curtain of purplish black hair. "We might as well include the tat, I got the top part done when I was a kid – got it finished up years later when when I was in the slammer."

"Did it get infected?" said Rock continuing down the lengths of her arms. He began to undo the tape that held the gauze on the forearm.

"Nah, like I said, had to fight – survive a beating. Fuckin' got the flu," she twitched impatiently as he ministered to her forearm, and then rebandaged the wound. "Thanks. And yer'not done."

"Two more exit wounds here – NYPD – Scar on your ass – Aisin Gioro again – Leg – Jumbo, Shenhua, one of the two – I think that's it – Not even close, look at the soles of my feet. -- What are those from? They look like white stripes – that's when I was a helpless little shit, I'll roll over... - Didn't notice that before – Got shanked in Phanken Prison, never saw it coming. It was dark. Inch deeper and I woulda drowned in my own blood."

She blinked and looked past him at the ceiling. "That's just the visible shit: Arms, legs and ribs broken. Four concussions I think, some nerve damage to the face. I've been close to starving, freezing and drowning multiple times and been beaten and raped... uh, a lot, before I could give it back in kind. I guess you gotta include the self inflicted damage, all the drinking, drugs, sexually transmitted diseases – I got worms in Mexico." Revy chuckled as Rock hastily pulled away with a grimace. "Don't worry, you know I'm clean. The amazing thing is I'm still hot as hell. Hard living hasn't caught up with me yet."

"But of course there's the big one," she closed her eyes. The ceiling fan spun quietly above. Revy had never bothered getting the air conditioner fixed.

"But none of that's in context," complained Rock. "It's all just random facts. I was there for half of it. And I have no idea what the big one is?" He placed his hands on Revy's ribcage and felt the heart galloping wildly along. How much yaba had she taken? She thought he didn't know her vices.

Her eyes snapped open. "Jeez, you're a dipshit sometimes, no, almost all the time." She poked at her flat lower abdomen below the belly button with an extended finger. "I don't use birth control. There won't be any little Revy's now or ever. That's a good thing, I've seen too many kids get thrown away. Like I was. I'd probably do the same thing to the brat."

"Are you sure?" said Rock, but she convulsively sat up and fumbled for the VHS controller, by her intent indicating the topic was concluded. "You want context, here's some context – Benny found this, you gotta check it out..."

She bounced on the bed with a gleeful look in the gold brown eyes.

The TV screen flickered. A voice blared out, "Tonight, it's the world's craziest police videos! Hi I'm Marshall Tom Cornell. In the next 30 minutes we'll see some of the most whacked out, most insane video ever caught on our cameras."

"What the hell?" Rock rolled over and looked.

"Can't remember exactly when this happened," said Revy apologetically. "After I left New York I did this whole vanishing point across the States. It was crazy bat shit the whole way; living in crack houses, breaking out of juvie halls before they could ID me. Hey, hey, here it is! Check it out!"

"There's a date time stamp in the corner of the video," Rock pointed out, but Revy was hooting and pointing. "Look! There I go!"

"This junkie was sky-high on a two day crack binge and wired to the max," shouted Marshall Tom Cornell. "Watch this low-life teen whore go on a wild shopping spree riding a stolen motorbike. No credit! No sell!"

Rock rubbed his eyes. Sure enough he was watching the end of a high speed chase. A squadron of police cars were attempting to corner the biker that was apparently Revy in a parking lot of a midwestern American mall. Men, women and children fled wildly. The camera view jerked wildly about.

The biker gunned the bike at the mall entrance and crashed through the glass doors. A swarm of cops followed, the camera view blinked out as the cop car collided with some obstacle.

"So what happened?" asked Rock. Revy was giggling and kicking her heels as she watched the show.

"I ditched in one of the restrooms. I knew I was totally boned and at a minimum was about to get the snot kicked outta me by cops again. Then this girl walks in. Totally out of it, no idea of all the crap goin' on. She's snapping her gum."

Revy took a breath and continued with a rapid staccato pitch. "She looks at me. I look at her. She says 'I like your coat' and I'm like 'I like your coat, wanna trade?' 'Okay' she says, and we trade jackets right there. She's all happy and stuff posing in the mirror and I adjust her collar like I'm all helpful. Muzaks playing way too loud. Out she walks – and they kick the crap out of her and haul her away. Look there she is... I wait a bit and stroll out a back entrance. Tada."

"That poor girl," said Rock appalled. Revy shrugged. "Yeah, it wasn't her lucky day. Guess she was some kinda junkie anyway."

"You know," she added, turning off the TV. "If I hadn't kept going, kept moving – that woulda been me."

"What, a crack-whore?" Rock regretted the words instantly. Revy's frowned and a slow flush crept across her cheeks.

"Yeah, a crack-whore," Revy said ominously. "I don't lie Rock – never do, I just choose to leave parts out if I don't like them. If I hadn't kept moving, kept looking for a way out – if I had stopped and hooked up with anyone of the scuzball creeps I hung with, I'd be six feet under. I was that close. All the time."

Revy sat up. "You wanna hear context? I'll tell you fucking context. Two weeks before that mall biz on the tv, I broke into a house in Texas and had to run like hell for a week. It was a police chief's house and he unleashed hell on me. Couldn't eat, drink, shakin' my ass off in culverts with motherfuckin' dogs barking and sniffin' for me in the fields. Then it goes cold, like dead cold and I'm going to freeze to death... in Texas."

She rolled away from Rock. "So I make for this roadhouse, I can tell it's a big biker hangout. I go in and it's rockin'. And, oh crap... you wouldn't even believe what happened next: Hardcore psycho shit. I was never the same after that, fuckin' went eight-ball ..."

Revy closed her eyes, voice trailing off to an indistinct mumble.

The mood had soured. Rock sighed and using the controller turned off the TV. He started to shift his weight forward to stand up when Revy suddenly whipped back over with a feverish look and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him close against her hot flesh. . Her nails dug into his flanks, drawing blood..

It's time for you to rock, baby. I'll do the rolling!"

--

But there was no tenderness, nothing gentle about the sex and no satisfaction.

Afterwards Revy drummed her heels against the mattress and rolled a cigarette between her fingers. "Looks like you need a break. Let's talk biz. What about the girl?"

Rock sat up breathing heavily and fumbled for the lighter and the piece of paper on the small table, "Here's what Benny found out. You're not going to like it."

Revy lit the cigarette with the offered lighter. She took a deep drag on the cigarette and held it a moment before exhaling. She was slick with sweat. "C'mon out with it."

Without a word Rock handed over the brochure.

Revy looked at the logo on the front. She shook her head. "Rowan's Cute Bicthes? I don't get it."

"It's bitches, the printer misspelled it," said Rock patiently. "Open it up."

Rock almost held his breath as a slow blush crept across the woman's face. There was something amusing about the reaction after their shared acrobatics.

"Do Roanapur's infamous damsels of disaster," Revy read it aloud slowly and with mounting outrage. "The chattels of carnage. Huh? Rowan's talented, very youthful stable can provide discriminating clients with the Shenhua? Girls who know a close shave and more – for fetish fans, Eda, the naughty nun, she'll discipline your ass! For those who like their abuse to be morbid – none other than the machine monster, the nameless ghost girl. Finally our most popular and the cheapest...."

Her voice trailed off.

Rock carefully took the brochure out of her nerveless hand. Revy seemed stunned.

It wasn't till the ash from her cigarette fell on her breast and had to be hastily brushed aside that she spoke thickly. "I'm cheap. That's my reputation. Rowan's a dead man."

"You'll have to let it go," said Rock evenly, crumpling the brochure. "He pays his bills and he's up on protection, the Russians got his back. You'll notice Rowan didn't have the balls to have any of the girls dress up like Balalaika. We'd all be paying a special visit to the cleaner if you took him out."

"Fuck Fry-face," said Revy harshly. Rock blinked, he had never heard Revy use that insult before. "And fuck Sawyer. First Dutch and now you, we all got goth-girl stuck in our heads. Mebbe we all need to go to a coffin ceremony and get her the fuck outta our karma. Tell you what, I got something on my mind. Yer going to do me a favor."

Rock met her unblinking stare, an uneasy feeling stirring in his gut. "What do you want?"

"Save the kids," said Revy flatly. "The copycat and the crippled girl I was talking about. I want them out of Roanapur. I want them somewhere safe."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Rock protested. "Benny and I've got work to do for Balalaika, you're off with Dutch for the next few days to Bangkok. And why? What's suddenly so important about these kids? What's the point? Where am I..."

"You did it for Garcia Loveless," said Revy, the gaze sharpening to cobra intensity. "You tried to do it for Yukio 'top _oyabun_' school girl. And you know what the thing is about both of those two? You thought you'd save them from the crap of this world, because they were all innocent and shit, shelter them from evil."

Her voice suddenly dropped as she mimicked him, "Revy, It's common sense to help children who're in trouble, isn't it? Fuck, and who did all the heavy lifting? Look at my arm! And who got freakin shish-kebbobolated on your little salvation gratification? "

"You did," said Rock nodding.

"It's my turn now. How about the ones already stuck in the shit? Do it for me Rock. I want a little of that self-satisfaction. That's the point, all ya need to know." She closed her eyes finally and rolled her head away from him on the pillow. Rock knew better than to protest, he would do as she asked.

Revy sighed, twitching and her brows drew together as she remembered the last item.

"By the way did goth-girl finally return the go-bag?"she said.

The bag in reference had been left behind a bush on the northern peninsula known as Nakhon Ratch above the city several months ago. The brutal death match against the Aisin Gioro had been eclipsed by the Maid's destructive rampage through the city shortly afterwards. Revy had refused to discuss anything further about the matter once she had recovered.

"For all her oddities, Sawyer is a perfectionist," pointed out Rock, eager to change the topic away from Jackpot Rowan's tasteless venture and the unusual request. He bent down and handed over the canvas bag, he had brought it in with him. "From what I understand nothing in the bag was misplaced, the items inside were even wiped down for prints in case the police became involved. I meant to take it to the boat, but I thought you'd like to double-check."

Revy's hand restlessy moved among the items until she came to the one unfamiliar object. A small white box. She pulled it out. "What's this?"

Something turned in Rock's stomach, "Revy don't open it," he said.

His voice trailed off. Revy was glaring again.

"What? You think I need to be protected? Hell, I don't even think there's anything in the box. Doesn't have any weight."

She shook it, sniffed it, flipped open the card on top "Wish I'd been there, have a nice day xoxo Sawyer?"

"Revy, please," begged Rock. He reached to take it from Revy, but she brushed his hand away with a sneer. "Oh c'mon," She tore the top off with a twist of the wrist. She picked up the object slowly between her fingers.

The long matching lengths of black and white hair had been carefully and intricately braided together into a small noose.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Temptation

In an office overlooking the more "prosperous" areas of Roanapur, the leader of the Wo Triad branch out of Hong Kong, a man otherwise known as Lee Kwan, rested his elbows upon his desk, fingers interlaced as he stared across the room.

A relatively tall male in his late thirties, clad in an expensive suit as a half-empty bottle of vintage liquor lay to the side of the desk; his expression was reminiscent of a sulk. Lee Kwan sat alone in the lavish office, his subordinates knowing better than to remain in his presence while he was in one of his "moods." Truth be told, Lee Kwan was an intimidating figure, if not for his tall stature, then most certainly for his tyrant-like personality and the seething, nearly paranoid gleam in his eyes. An egomaniacal narcissist, it was a logical theory among many that Lee Kwan had most likely joined the Triads to feed his obsessive compulsive need for power and control over others.

He cracked his knuckles as agitated thoughts entered his mind.

Thaksin, that stupid asshole. Just what the hell was he thinking? Lee Kwan recalled from a most recent report, he had tried to make off with 100K of the Triad's own money. Worse yet, the damn child prostitute that Thaksin had hired to "entertain" himself and his buddies had stolen the money after the Lagoon couriers showed up and blasted everything to kingdom come.

Lee Kwan snarled, momentarily turning his mental focus to the gun-girl of the Lagoon Company. It was no secret that the man harbored a strong dislike, even so far as a great _hatred_ of the independent "contractors" within the city of Roanapur, most notably the female hunters. Despicable creatures that exchanged their bloody services for a set sum of money, Lee Kwan saw them as nothing but glorified whores.

But in truth, the malice he felt towards the hunters was most likely not stemmed from chauvinistic inclinations, but more so from his own self-loathing. These killers seemed to have their own sense of rules and codes of conduct, self-made villains that stood independently and worked only when it suited their own needs. In essence, the hunters ruled themselves, and it grated Lee Kwan's narcissistic pride.

After all the years of relentless clawing and back-stabbing he had done to get to his current position as leader of the Wo Triad, Lee Kwan himself was still a _subordinate_ to the larger, more powerful 14K Triad underneath the command of Mr. Chang. The sole reason Kwan was currently at the helm in Roanapur was not for his "skills," but only because Mr. Chang had to lower his presence due to a recent incident involving a maid and some American soldiers. It was an irony, a fact that Lee Kwan despised.

Reflecting back on his hatred of the hunters, he listed the names of well-known contractors in his head. Revy, Eda, Shenhua, Sawyer.

The last name clung to his mind.

Sawyer the Cleaner: of all of the freelancers within Roanapur, she was the hunter that Lee Kwan had the highest dislike for. Not only did he despise independent contractors, but he had no respect for cleaners as well. Blinded by his crooked sense of pride, he preferred to see cleaners as disgusting vultures that fed off of rotten corpses, refusing to acknowledge the fact that cleaning was an absolutely _vital_ function in the realm of villains, a task that a good portion of people within the city were surprisingly very thankful for.

Cleaning profession aside, another reason for Lee Kwan's dislike of Sawyer was simply because she was a huge liability. Ever since the warfare between the "Bloodhound of Florencia" and the NSA operators had broken out in the city, the Thai government had been doing quite a bit of unwanted poking and prodding. Lee Kwan knew that Sawyer had a long history with working for Mr. Chang. If those involved with the Thai crackdown were to get a hold of Sawyer, it would be a disastrous strike to the Triads in Roanapur, since...

"...She knows where the bodies are," he said aloud to himself, his voice almost coming out as a venomous hiss.

There were many problems to deal with. It was most likely that the child who had stolen the 100K from the soon to be very dead Thaksin was hanging around with the other street kids of Roanapur. Those little brats still needed to be _hunted_ down, and they needed to be _punished_. Then there was the issue with that cleaner, who was too much of a liability to be ignored. Lee Kwan needed her to "disappear." Yes, there were many, many problems...

He displayed a devious smirk. Not that he would _personally_ dirty his hands with such filth. Surely, the likes of him just weren't suited to do something so... _low_. Jobs such as those were only fit for trash that maggots would refuse to feast upon. Luckily, Lee Kwan had managed to stumble upon such an individual.

He had hired an idiot foreigner, mostly likely American from the southern accent, a disgusting man wearing an eye patch, a piece of garbage that appeared out of nowhere and somehow gravitated towards Roanapur. The leader of the Wo Triad distinctly remembered the simpleton laughing wildly and going into a strange dance when he had shown the hired hitman a picture of the cleaner, one of his targets. Lee Kwan had no idea why the man had seemed so amused when he had seen the photograph, and frankly, he didn't care. Lee Kwan had provided enough information and directions for the moronic dolt to follow, and all he cared about was that the hired foreigner completed the tasks that were given. Though not without proper precautions, of course.

The hitman with the eye patch was easily convinced, easily manipulated, easily _tricked_. Without the foreigner's knowledge, Lee Kwan had made sure to send several of his men to track his movements, to make sure he wouldn't screw up and would follow through with the job. And once that idiot hunted down the children, retrieved the 100K, and killed off the cleaner, Lee Kwan would have him shot on sight.

In addition to feeling that the hitman was more suited for the despicable job of hunting down the children that had the money and killing the cleaner, Lee Kwan could use the foreigner as something to cover up the details that linked the Wo Triad leader to the event if and when Mr. Chang caught wind of the incident. _"Oh, Chang _da ge_, for absolutely no reason at all, this sick, _sick_ man suddenly showed up in the city and started killing street children! Your cleaner? The poor thing, she was making her usual rounds in the streets and got murdered by the aforementioned sick man. I eventually found out about him and sent my men to take care of the matter."_

It was the perfect plan. _Mei guanxi. _No problem.

Finally finding peace of mind, Lee Kwan laid back leisurely in his seat and closed his eyes. Everything was planned, everything was set, everything was arranged to his comfort. Now all he had to do was relax and let the events unfold.

--

"Why?" said Parang finally, his voice echoing in the enclosed space of the sewage pipe.

Gaavrila blinked. She was strapped onto his back, arms wrapped loosely around his neck as he moved carefully down the dark circular passageway, carefully straddling the filth that ran beneath. The rest of the group had gone on ahead. Only the girl Rohingya followed, dragging the makeshift wheelchair along.

"Why what?" she replied, breathing shallowly through her mouth. No one breathed through their nose down in the sewers.

"You know what I mean," said Parang, speaking slowly in English. "What made you to draw a gun on Two-hands? Nobody lives to tell when they do that."

"That woman looked afraid of me," said Gaavrila, wincing as he stumbled. A throb of pain shot up her spine from the useless remnants of her legs. "She looked like she was about to be sick. Then she... she made me angry... and I thought maybe I could scare her off. All the stories, they couldn't possibly be true."

"They're true," said Parang flatly."Two-hands is a killer, one of those soulless demons you keep talking about. They say she used a child as a shield in a gunfight once. I can't believe she let you live."

He paused, "I can't protect you if you do stupid things. All I have is a machete – against guns..."

Gaavrila pressed her chin lightly into the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. And then she had me down on the ground and I was the one who was scared. We had to do something for Niken."

Parang shook his head.

"She's one of us," protested Gaavrila. "We all have to help each other or the city will eat us up one by one. I... we won't let her give up. We will not lose her."

Ahead in the shadows, a figure waited for the three stragglers at the junction. It was one of the twins, his hard eyes and teeth gleaming from the light trickling down through a grate from the street above.

"We have to go right, through the Garden," he spoke directly to Gaavrila as if to a commander. "Chaiyo checked out the usual way, there's a police car parked there. Since that business with the _farang_ shooting up the city, they've been all over the place."

Parang shuddered, "Merciful Buddha..."

"They're just statues," said Gaavrila. "Be strong. Lead the way, Alak."

--

In the twilight, the statuary somehow became malevolent, almost alive to the children who slipped through the Garden towards the safety of the abandoned warehouse.

The Buddhist temple had long since been razed, replaced by a fenced in lot filled with heavy machinery: bulldozers, backhoes and loaders. The Hell Garden had been left untouched, perhaps as an ironic reminder of what had befallen the city – much like the faceless Buddha that faced out to sea at the harbor entrance.

The statues, worn and flaking paint, depicted the fates of the damned and the punishments alloted by Phya Yom, the death king; writhing figures in giant pots being roasted, sinners being ripped apart by snarling garishly painted demons.

Parang stopped as he always did before one peculiarly gruesome display. Gaavrila hugged him for comfort. Rohingya stumbled up behind them clutching her side.

"If you meet the Devil in this life," said Parang, chanting the familiar words from the sign. "don't postpone merit-making which will help you to defeat him in the next life."

"I forgive," whispered Gaavrila in his ear. "God forgives. Don't worry about the next life. Keep moving. Rohi needs to rest, so do you."

--

The twins, Alak and Chaiyo, carried Gaavrila to the pile of blankets in the center of the warehouse floor. They put her down carefully, resting the girl's back against a pillar and then flanked her, standing at attention.

Around them swirled a mob of poorly dressed children - almost all of them under the age of fourteen, chattering excitedly at the arrival of Gaavrila's gang. They clustered frantically around the Japanese girl Ayame, who held several garbage bags filled with gathered food scraps over her head. Gaavrila wrinkled her nose, the smell of body odor was overwhelming and never familiar, but it was preferable to the stench of the sewers.

"Rohi," shouted Gaavrila. "Help Ayame before they knock her over."

"I fucking hate this," shrieked Ayame, kicking vigorously as Rohingya pushed her way through the mob. "Back.. the fuck away you little brats!"

Parang smacked the flat of his machete against the pillar twice, it made a ringing sound. "Everybody! Shut up and sit down. Gaavrila has announcements."

It took about five minutes to restore order and to get the assembled crowd of children seated and silent so the food could be distributed. During that time, Gaavrila kept her eyes closed and prayed: She prayed for the group, and she prayed she could keep the pain that gnawed her at her broken body at bay. She had to be strong, stronger than this wretched place that had killed her father and so many others.

She opened her eyes and surveyed the seated crowd.

"Tomorrow, at two," she spoke slowly in English. Parang translated the words into Thai, "Another white van will pull up on the side road out here. Dr. Chiet was able to get the agency up in Pattaya to agree to take more of us out of Roanapur. Pattaya isn't much better, but at least there are people who are trying to help us street kids there – and you won't have to hide all the time."

She paused, "However, they can only take ten – that's all they have room for at the shelter at this time. Dr. Chiet is trying to get other shelters involved."

The wave of disappointment was almost palpable. She could see the furtive glances being shared among the children. Who would be the lucky ones, who would get out this time?

Ayame spoke rapidly over the silence, "There's a Japanese consulate in Pattaya. Let me go. I can't take this anymore."

Gaavrila shrugged. She was tired of the constant complaining and non-stop whining. Ayame had shown precious little gratitude since they had found her wandering half naked and dazed in the streets. "If you can find a spot in the van, go. Maybe you can cling to the top."

It was a petty remark, and Gaavrila immediately regretted what she had said. "We also rescued Niken," she continued in her raspy voice. "We found out she'd been forced into working for the _mafiya_. And we were able to get her free, with a little help..."

Her voice trailed away. The children were standing and moving away in clusters towards their respective locations throughout the warehouse.

"She fed you, she was always out getting food for you," she shouted furiously. "It's not her fault..."

Parang knelt down beside, he had stopped translating. "They don't care. They don't trust her anymore. The business a while back with the Romanians, when two of our own were killed. And no one believes she was forced to be a prostitute. She chose it after that encounter in the sewers with the Bandaged Man."

"Where is she?" Gaavrila looked around frantically. "Didn't she get here first with Mikey?"

Alak and Chaiyo shrugged and spoke simultaneously. "We didn't see them after we ran away from all the shooting. We thought they came here first."

"What a waste of time," Gaavrila ground her teeth together. "I hope they didn't get picked up by Chief Watsup and his goons. We'll never see them..."

There was a banging noise that echoed throughout the abandoned factory, children sprang to their feet grabbing at meager belongings. Someone wailed. Parang and the twins sprang into action, moving quickly towards their pre-determined spots to speed up the evacuation. Rohingya and Ayame grabbed the wheelchair and dragged it over to Gaavrila.

The banging noise was followed by two more. Then a single knock, and then three more. Gaavrila sighed and relaxed. The lost sheep had returned.

Mikey squeezed halfway through an opening in the wall; one of the many bolt holes the children had prepared throughout the building. He passed a heavy duffel bag to the waiting Parang. Mikey was swearing terribly as he pulled the struggling girl with him through the entry. The twins moved in to restrain Niken as she kicked and swung wildly at them.

"She tried running away," shouted Mikey, lurching to his feet. He was bleeding from his nose. "We put our goddamn lives on the line with Two-hands and the Triads, and she tries bolting."

Five of the nearest children surged forward shouting and engulfed Niken in a welter of fists and feet, pushing aside the unprepared twins. She went down with a shriek, curling up in a ball as the blows rained down. They tried to grab her hair and smash her head into the concrete floor.

"Stop it! Stop it!" yelled Gaavrila over the uproar. Ayama was likewise shrieking. Rohingya, being mute, waved her arms.

Parang and the twins regrouped and waded into the fray, throwing and pushing back the smaller children. In a moment they had control of the situation and they dragged Niken over to where Gaavrila was seated.

Niken stood swaying between the twins, favoring one leg, her long black hair hid the bloodied face. Gaavrila was shocked, there had been no time during the frantic retreat from the alleyway to notice anything peculiar about the thirteen year old girl. But there was a horrid similarity to the untied military boots, the unzipped shorts held up by a military web belt, the black tank-top, the fake tattoo on the right shoulder.

"_Bozhe moy_!" Gaavrila blurted out. "You look just like that killer!"

Niken collapsed in a heap. Her hands covered her face. She rocked back and forth, unable to answer.

"Oh, it's worse than you think!" snarled Mikey. "Take a look in the duffel bag! We're totally screwed! She was going to run off and let us catch hell from the Triads.

Parang knelt down in front of Gaavrila with the duffel bag. He unzipped the bag and they both looked in and gasped. In the long silence, all the children gathered round in a tight circle staring at the bundles of money stuffed in the bag.

"I could get a plane ticket, go home to Japan," gasped Ayame. "Get a lawyer and press charges against my parents."

Gaavrila crossed her arms over her thin chest. In her mind's eye she saw herself in St. Petersburg, the doctors fitting her with prosthetics so she could walk again. The sun was shining and she was free of concerns. Then she looked up at the stunned, greedy faces around her. All except for Mikey.

"Don't you get it?" he exclaimed. "The Triads will want this back. All their goons will be out looking for us. Not only the mafiya, but the police will be brought in. And you know what happens when the police round up street kids."

Parang nodded his head in agreement, "He's right. What are we going to do?"

Gaavrila gathered her thoughts. "Alak and Chaiyo, I want you to check all the trip wires around the building – make sure that if anyone comes near here, we'll be warned. Parang, talk to the kids – I want eyes watching in every direction. When it gets dark I want scouts outside watching the road and the garden. Everybody else has to be ready to bolt for the sewers or whatever they're comfortable with if we're found out."

She reached forward and zipped the bag shut, hiding the contents. "It's too late now. We have to lay low tonight and tomorrow. No one goes in or out until the van shows up from Pattaya. Then we'll send Parang to get Dr. Chiet. He'll help us. We'll need someone to talk... talk to the Russians I guess. I will swallow my pride. They can help."

Gaavrila pulled the bag close. "I'll hold onto the bag."

Niken looked up. Weaving English and Malay together she spitefully asked, "_Kenapa awak_? Why you? _Camner kami nak percaya kat awak_? How can we trust you?"

Niken flinched as Parang raised his hand.

Gaavrila laughed with a tinge of hysteria and waved a hand futilely over the bandaged stumps of her legs. "Trust me? Trust me? Look at me? I'm the only one here who can't walk away. I'm not going anywhere."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Reunion**

"Do it on your own free time," rumbled Dutch over the phone. "I have to admit the whole business is odd. Since when has Revy turned into a humanitarian? I would advise caution but the two of you are too simpleminded to listen to common sense. The duffle-bag the girl made off with was a money transfer to Lee Kwan. Then the Wo Triad's on the hunt."

"Understood," said Rock wearily. Revy had changed her mind and mood last night and before he could leave, she had dragged him back down onto the bed. Nothing more had been said. "Revy just left, I don't think she slept at all last night. she'll meet you at the boat. We'll see you when you get back from Bangkok."

"Our trip to Bangkok was postponed," said Dutch. "Since Revy feels free to make busy work for you, I'll make her swab the decks. Later."

Rock rolled off the bed and pulled on his shirt. He picked up the clear plastic bag on the side table. There was an assortment of brightly colored yaba tablets. Rock frowned.

Rock went into the bathroom. The tablets left colored trails in the water as he flushed.

--

"Well, fuck that!" snapped Revy, her lip twisting down. "If we're not going to Bangkok, then there's no job – and I don't clean. Make Benny do it. Catch y'later."

She slammed the phone down and stepped out of the phone booth.

Revy lit a cigarette. Looked both ways. There was always the Ripoff Church, but Eda was always asking questions and looking for information – and Revy owed her money from the last poker game. The Yellow Flag was still closed, so there was no dark corner to crawl into with a bottle of Bacardi. She couldn't go randomly strolling about even in Roanapur – if she went down to the canal and the floating market, the vendors would probably organize a lynch mob.

Rock was with Balalaika. She frowned. Scratched her arms. Felt like bugs were crawling all over, under her shirt, in her hair - fucking yaba...

--

Boris and the other man were speaking in Russian, in the bluff fraternal tones that fighting men took with each other. Rock tried to ignore them.

"Right when we pulled up to the General Staff building in Kabul, we heard a shot! Not knowing the situation, our entire company returned fire. What we didn't know was that we were firing on Rozin and his boys from subgroup Zenith. Yevgeny, we almost wiped those sons of bitches out."

"Isn't that the way it always was?" Yevgeny shook his head in disgust. "The damned Chekists were always so damned worried about security, we'd end up getting into firefights with our own cause they wouldn't tell us they'd sent someone else in. Remember Vasily?"

"Poor bastard," Boris shook his head.

"Remember how enthusiastic he was during training? He'd see an officer, any officer, and he'd puff out his chest and shout..." Yevgeny paused and took a deep breath so he could shout.

"I serve the Soviet Union!"

Both men laughed cynically. Rock shuffled the papers.

"What about this Japanese guy?" said Yevgeny after a pause. "Two-hands used to be a lot more entertaining before he showed up. What does the Captain see in him?"

Boris coughed, "He's trustworthy, that's what the Captain sees in him. Let's step out. I have to stretch my legs."

Rock's ears burned. Obviously Yevgeny had no idea that Rock understood Russian. The men stepped out of Balalaika's office, leaving Rock alone at the desk. He was able to turn his full attention on the shipping manifests and the error soon became apparent. Despite himself, he was pleased. He leaned back in the chair with a creak and closed his eyes. He had to have a talk with Revy, something wasn't right....

"I take it you found the error then," Balalaika said in English. Rock almost started out of the chair. She had entered the office silently and stood before the desk. The military greatcoat flared out in a manner that added menace to the stance. The Russian tilted her face in such a way that the badly burnt side remained shadowed in the dimly lit, windowless room.

"The difference is here." Rock spoke rapidly pointing at the detail, he never felt comfortable under the scrutiny of Balalaika's controlled stare. "There's a difference of ten containers on the _Amur_ being transferred between Novcomflot and FESCO on this date. However, both documents appear to be authentic. But, if you knew there was a discrepancy to begin with, why did you need me to find it?"

"I am a soldier - not an accountant, Mr. Okajima," said Balalaika. She opened the lid of the desktop humidor. "I needed confirmation. Nothing else needs to be discussed. Tell Dutch I am pleased. We will continue this arrangement when necessary."

Rock nodded neutrally, though inwardly he shrank. Somehow the thought of returning to a deskjob, in this case for the Russian Mafia, had the same lack of attractiveness as his past life at Asahi Industries. Nothing matched the freedom of the _Black Lagoon_ on the South China Seas.

But Balalaika was clapping her hands in delight, her eyes drooping. "Do you know what these are, Rockuro?" she said dropping the formality. "These are Grand Reserve cigars! They are infused with Louis XIII cognac. There are none finer in the world. Mr. Chang has outdone himself again. There are advantages to crime."

Rock sourly noted that she did not offer him one as she lit up with a self-satisfied look of ecstasy. Boris came back in and stood at attention at the door.

"Revy has asked me to look into a matter – something personal I believe," he blurted out. Balalaika cocked an eyebrow through the cloud of smoke that enveloped her head.

"Ah, Two-hands," Balalaika almost smirked. A childish, petulant tone crept into the Russian's tone. "Or is that one-hand these days. How is she doing? And what does she want?"

"Revy's doing better," said Rock determinedly. "I'm not quite sure of the details, but she's trying to find a crippled Russian girl who's been known to preach on the streets. We're trying to recover..."

"Sergeant," said Balalaika interrupting, suddenly rigid. "Escort Mr. Okajiama out of the building. I have more important things to do."

--

"Yevgeny and I were talking about her father back there," Boris spoke suddenly in the elevator. "His name was Vasily. He served with the 688th north of Kabul. A brave man. He got religion after the war."

"I see," said Rock. He was trying his best not to panic. One did not beard the Russians in their own den. Boris usually barely noticed his existence, and now he was talking.

"There is no truth to the story that Balalaika had the girl crippled," said Boris staring straight ahead. "We tried to send her home, but she refused and look what happened. We're a stubborn people, we Russians, too much so for our own good."

"I knew nothing about the girl until yesterday," said Rock digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

"She has refused, indeed she spurned our offers of assistance," said Boris with a steely tone. "But there are those among us who would take it amiss if something else happened to Gaavrila Kazakhova. We would make Two-hands' death a story never forgotten in this Asian piss-hole. There is always the bridge."

Rock swallowed. "You're wrong. Two-hands wants to get Gaavrilla out of the city before the Triads hunt her and another child down. I can't quite explain her concern, but it matters. A matter of stolen money from Lee Kwan."

The elevator door opened on the lobby, but Boris didn't stir, the scarred face impassive.

"There is a man named Dr. Chiet," Boris said finally. He reached into his pocket. "I will write down the address. You must go to the back entry, ring the bell and say it is Bougainvillea business. He knows where Kazakhova's daughter can be found."

Relieved Rock took the proffered scrap. He walked out through the lobby and out onto the street. Blinking in the fading sunlight, he didn't notice the slouched figure who was leaning up against a lamp post until she spoke.

"Hey," Revy said. "I'm bored."

--

The sky overhead tinted a deep blood red, a haunting wind blew through an area filled with nothing but dust and hideously dilapidated buildings. By far one of the most poorly maintained sections of the city, it came as no surprise that it was one of the more _vacant_ areas in Roanapur. Even the most hardened of villains refused to take up residence there, if not for the poor real estate, then most certainly for the _eerie_ presence of the large meatpacking plant. It was a building that stood out from the other structures, not quite as damaged as the rest of the area, appearing to have some level of maintenance applied, but the mere sight of it would immediately send shivers down the spines of many criminals. A creepy structure with an infamous history of bloodshed and terror, the frightening aura that radiated from the abattoir was ranked among those of the castles that were once inhabited by Elizabeth Bathory and H. H. Holmes.

But the plant did not always have that reputation. There was a time when it was simply known to people as just another empty building, a site where a failed business stood. For quite a long time, the structure had been uninhabited, abandoned. Until one day, out of the blue, the front of the plant had been adorned with an odd emblem of a quirky, decapitated pig's head on a plate and the words "U.G. Pork" underneath it. In the beginning, only a small group of criminals had known that a ghost woman had taken up residence at the formerly abandoned building. Over time, more and more people had grown aware of the ghost's presence, telling terrible tales of bloodshed and horror, spreading stories of death and dismemberment, speaking of what torrid fate awaited the poor, unfortunate souls that were sent to the slaughterhouse.

What seemed to have scared people even more was whenever they heard the loud rumble of the U.G. Pork van cruising along at night, the sound of a roaring chainsaw following soon after, a sure sign that the ghost woman was drifting about the shady streets and collecting bodies to drag into the underworld.

It became something of a twisted joke among the citizens of Roanapur. "_Oh, you're thinking of going down to _that _part of town, are you? U.G. Pork? You're fucking insane! There's a ghost haunting that place! She'll probably rip out your soooooouulll!"_ Uproarious laughter would normally be heard afterwards, only for an awkward silence to follow shortly, those who had dared to laugh knowing full well that the "joke" was most likely true.

Ever since the ghost woman had appeared, the plant seemed to be draped in shadows. Regardless of whatever time of night or day it was, the clock was always set at midnight. Only a choice few willingly _chose_ to enter the terrifying structure and dared to face the ghost within. Those who ventured into the ghost woman's domain were considered to be brave, bold, fearless...

Or, in the case of the one-eyed Texan walking in the halls, a complete jackass.

--

Having changed out of her surgeon's scrubs and into her gothic attire several minutes ago, Sawyer the Cleaner adjusted the long striped sleeves over her scarred wrists and surveyed her surroundings. Old lockers aligned against the wall, a variety of small manual saws supported on a tool board, a rectangular mirror with packed rust and mildew around the corners mounted above the sink, visible pipelines and the like running up the walls and across the ceiling, florescent lights above, the white tiles of the room were stained with blood from her previous jobs. She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

Her sapphire eyes drifting towards the large chainsaw resting upon a table in the corner of the room, she sighed. It had been quite a long while since she had heard from Mr. Chang. Because of the lack of requests from the Triad boss, work had been rather boring for the past several weeks. No live executions, no "special deliveries," just simple dismemberment and disposal.

Turning the faucet on the sink and running her hands underneath the flow of water, she sighed again. Work wasn't the only thing that had become monotonous. Her personal life had gotten rather bland as of late. Her companions had left about a week or so earlier when they both agreed to take a hunting job outside of the city. Shenhua had wanted to get back into the field the very moment her leg fully healed from the events of the "maid fiasco." Rotton, always eager to work and prove himself with a dramatic entrance whenever the opportunity presented itself, had agreed to accompany her. Sawyer wished she could have gone along with them, but the ghost woman had reminded herself that she was a cleaner first and a hunter second. The demand for her specialty was constant in Roanapur, and she could only afford to take hunting jobs _within_ the city during her free time so that she would easily be able to fall back into cleaning when she was back on the clock.

Absentmindedly washing her hands, Sawyer pouted. Rotton and Shenhua, the only two people the normally cold, apathetic woman dared to show any trace of emotion in front of, the only people she cared about, Sawyer truly did miss them. Assuming nothing terrible happened to them while they were gone, Shenhua and Rotton were due to come back into the city in a day or two. She hoped she would see them soon.

An indifferent expression on her ghostly white face, Sawyer jerked her head up and stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink as the sound of running water filled the room, thinking she had heard a small shuffle somewhere in the hall outside of the door. Strange, once she had finished with disposing of the bodies, she had scanned the plant and was certain it was empty. What seemed to be even more odd to her was the searing sensation that had run up her spine and the air around her that increasingly felt as though it was slowly becoming stagnant, toxic. She didn't recall ever experiencing such an unnerving feeling, except since...

Slowly shaking her head from side to side, she tore her eyes away from the mirror in front of her and ignored the feeling. No, it couldn't be _that_. Her mind was probably just playing tricks on her after a long day of work. Set on going home and resting for the night, a small squeak was heard as Sawyer turned off the faucet, looking down as she dried her hands. The lights emitted small buzzing sounds as they began to flicker erratically, the shadows appearing more and more and the light appearing less and less. A small click was heard as the fluorescent bulbs gave out to complete darkness. Sawyer slightly tilted her head upwards in reaction to the sudden change of lighting, or lack thereof. Before she could ask herself what had happened, the room was illuminated once more.

The first thing the ghost woman saw was a reflection of her cold blue eyes, which widened by at least a millimeter when she realized there was someone staring at her in the corner of the mirror.

An ugly, miserable form of a man, an ill-advised mullet of greasy, matted, stringy black hair, a jagged scar along an abnormally sharp chin, a mouth of decayed teeth filling a twisted grin, his left eye seemed to sink into his face as an eye patch covered where his right eye _should_ have been. Refusing to turn around, still looking at the reflection of the demon in the mirror, the dark blue eyes of the ghost woman narrowed, feeling a sudden unrelenting hatred, as well as a spark of a deeply rooted fear. It was her cousin, Gunnar "Gunny" Tom Sawyer.

Gunny Tom whistled as he stared at the small ghost woman.

"Goddamn, Fred-Fred! Is that you?" he drawled obnoxiously, "Baww, look at ya, all grown up!"

The glare in _Frederica_ Sawyer's eyes became more intense, finally turning around to face the demon from her past. Gunnar seemed completely unaffected by her deadly gaze.

"Hey, Fred-Fred, the hell you lookin' at me like that for?" he asked with crooked grin, "That ain't very nice, considerin' we haven't seen each other in so long. Only a couple a days after that fuckin' retard daddy of yours drowned in the bog, me an' the whole family found out you packed up your shit in the attic and ran away! Hell, I never thought I'd see you again. I figured you'd end up bein' some little crackwhore torchin' people's houses in the countryside and endin' up in juvie! But who would'a thought that cousin Fred-Fred would end up all the way on the other side of the world and be the boss of her very own business!"

The ghost woman's expression did not change. She detested every single word that spewed from his rotten mouth. She was not at all amused at what Gunny Tom figured her life would have turned out to be, nor was she fond of the reminder of how her father had passed away.

"**What are... you... doing here?**" she asked, purposefully delaying the time around the words that were on either side of the word "you" for emphasis. Gunny Tom stupidly cocked his lips to the side and his left eye blinked at hearing the sound of the augmented voice. It was then that he realized the small, speaker-like device that was strapped to her neck, located slightly below a telltale scar. The gross demon of a man wheezed as he laughed.

"Well, goddamn, will ya look at that! Poor little Fred-Fred ran away from home and got her throat cut open! Git yourself a wheelchair and you'd be just like Mama!"

Sawyer's shoulders slowly moved up, then down as she took a deep breath. Having contempt for her entire family ever since childhood, she did not appreciate Gunnar's comparison to her laryngectomee grandmother. Her sense of loathing for her cousin also increased at seeing his great amusement with her traumatic injury.

"**Answer the question,**" she seethed. Once Gunny Tom stopped wheezing and caught his breath. An unnatural gleam in his remaining eye, he smirked.

"I'm here because I'm huntin'."

"**... Hunting?**" Sawyer repeated. Thanks to her family of sadists, it was a term she had become familiar with even before she had run away from the ranch and eventually came to Roanapur. Whenever the term "hunting" was used, she knew right away that they prey was not going to be an animal, but a person. It wasn't at all surprising that Gunnar was involved with such an activity, but what Sawyer wanted to know was what the disgusting man standing only several feel in front of her was doing _hunting_ in _Roanapur_.

"Yeah, huntin'," confirmed Gunny Tom with a huff.

"**Hunting... whom?**" the gothic woman pressed. She did not particularly enjoy where the conversation was going, much less having a conversation with the one man — no, _creature_ she detested more than any other _thing_ on the planet. Her eyes trained on Gunnar, her mind calmly wandered to her chainsaw, which was _inconveniently_ lying on the table she had set up in the corner. As the demonic man opened his mouth to speak, the ghost woman silently concocted his demise.

"It's a real easy job," Gunny Tom began with a chuckle, "I was hired by this China man, one of those boss types, the leader of a 'Wo Triad' or somethin' like that..."

Sawyer raised an eyebrow. The Wo Triad? The subordinate group to Mr. Chang's 14K? What use could they have possibly had for an _idiot_ like Gunny Tom?

"The fucker lost 100 grand," Gunnar continued, "Some young little thing got up and stole the bag that had the money, is prob'ly hangin' around with a gang of street kids..."

"**You are hunting... **_**children**_**?**"

"Damn right."

"**And just what purpose... does sneaking... into my plant serve?**"

"I figured you'd offer me a little bit of help, Fred-Fred."

"**Why would I... ever... help you?**" The ghost woman's disgust was clearly shown in her normally apathetic eyes. The mere thought of working side by side with her cousin Gunnar made her sick, and the fact alone that his targets were a gang of children repulsed her.

"C'mon now, Fred-Fred," Gunnar began, "I'm not gonna like tellin' you this, but... Fred-Fred, your daddy ain't the only one who is dead. Mama, Uncle Charlie, Chop-Top, _everyone_, even ol' Grandpa. They either got picked off by old age or... Well, accidents happen." Sawyer resisted the urge to scoff. "Accidents happen"? Was that his eloquent way of saying he killed those members himself?

"Fred-Fred," Gunnar continued, "The whole family is dead. You and me... We're the only ones left. We're the only family we got." Gunny Tom uttered a dramatic, pitiful sigh in an attempt to get Sawyer to sympathize with him, but the act only served to irritate her.

"**So what?**" said the ghost woman callously. Her cousin exhibited a dimwitted gawk.

"'So what'? 'So what'?! Whad'ya mean by 'So what'?!"

"**What I mean is... I don't care,**" stated Sawyer grimly, making sure the final three words sank in. "**So what... if the rest... of the family... is dead? You honestly thought... that you were going... to convince me to help you... with a sob story? You want to... hunt down street children? Do it yourself... ****You somehow managed... to find your way... into Roanapur... and you somehow managed... to find your way... to my abattoir. ****You should be able... to find your way... to the street kids... on your own. Do not expect... any help from me.**"

In addition to her resentment, Sawyer _never_ trusted Gunny Tom. She did indeed believe that he took a job that involved hunting down a gang of children, –he certainly was despicable enough to do such a thing– but she had a feeling that wasn't telling the whole truth. Gunny Tom suddenly arrives in Roanapur, gets a job, and then, despite having absolutely no knowledge of the city, figures out she was working as a cleaner at U.G. Pork, locates the plant and then asks her to help him to track down his "prey"? It was all a little too convenient...

At those words, Gunnar's face contorted in a snarl, losing his temper.

"Damn it, Fred-Fred! I'm not from this city! You have to help me track down those kids! We're cousins, we're family! _You have an obligation to the Sawyer clan_!"

"**An... obligation?**" the ghost woman said, now amused in her contempt, "**I owe you... nothing. And even if I did... follow such a... foolish thing... I still would not... help you.**" Her sapphire blue eyes now filled with a chilling hatred, a sordid smile found its way into the ghost woman's face.

"**You are not... family to me... We have... nothing in common... and we are... nothing alike... All I see... **_**All you are**_**... is a degenerate cretin!**"

With those words, Sawyer dashed towards her chainsaw, which was only a good five or so sprinting-steps away. The ghost woman knew that the distance could easily be covered. All she had needed to do was disorient her cousin enough and ignite that poorly controlled temper of his, his boiling blood clouding his judgment and slowing down his reaction time. By the time he realized where Sawyer was heading and made a move to chase her, it would be too late. She would have already grabbed the chainsaw off of the table and pulled the ripcord, quickly cutting away at Gunny Tom's flesh and blood.

That was how the plan was _supposed_ to go.

Unfortunately, when her hands had been mere inches away from her chainsaw, a lasso had wrapped itself around her neck, jerking her backwards and forcing her to land on her back. Sawyer had been so focused on how to kill Gunny Tom, and in an ironic twist had been clouded by her own bitter feelings towards the wicked man, that she had completely failed to notice that he had been hiding one of his hands behind his back the entire time, holding onto a coiled rope.

Yelling out obscenities, Gunnar quickly pulled Sawyer towards himself and kicked her in the stomach. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, instinctively curling into a ball. Gripping her by the neck, Gunny Tom lifted Sawyer off of the ground and slammed her against the wall, holding her in place several inches off of the ground. He moved his free hand back, forming it into a fist, intending to punch the small cleaner. But upon noticing her wide, almost fearful eyes, he lowered and loosened his free hand, bringing it up alongside Sawyer's face as his wrathful expression transformed into something disturbingly, deceitfully happy. He cackled madly.

"Fred-Fred, Fred-Fred..." He harshly patted the side of her face, not hard enough to be considered a slap or cause injury, but forceful enough to cause irritation and discomfort. "Now, don't go thinkin' just because I lassoed you and kicked you while you were down means I'm angry at you for callin' me a cretin, whatever that is..."

His dark left eye, his _only_ eye, staring into both of Sawyer's dark blue eyes, Gunnar displayed a wretched smirk.

"But I didn't take kindly to that _'We have nothing alike' _comment," he sneered. Sawyer's body was rigid as he held her against the wall by her scarred neck, her teeth clenched together, her eyes wide, frozen in place.

"You little cunt," Gunnar started, a wicked smile still prominent, "You think we have nothin' in common? You're full of shit. I look around this room and y'know what I see? Blood, lots of it. You wanna know why that is, Fred-Fred? Because you _like_ the blood. You want to know _why_ you like the blood, Fred-Fred? Because you _like_ to chop people up. And you wanna _why_ you like to chop people up, Fred-Fred? Because you _like __**death**_. And you wanna know why you _like __**death**_, Fred-Fred? You know why, you know why?!" His grip on her neck tightened, shaking her slightly as he did so. Sawyer winced in pain. Closing her eyes to the point of slits, she found Gunny Tom looking her straight in the eye.

"That's because you got the Sawyer blood in ya," he hissed demoniacally, "Death and dismemberment is a family thing, Fred-Fred. It ties the clan together. You and me? We ain't no different. That blood runs through both our veins. We're exactly the same..." The words echoed in her head. Sawyer the Cleaner was well aware of her presence as a cold entity in Roanapur, well aware of her role as a villain, but her cousin Gunny Tom possessed a level of bloodlust and amorality that even she found to be utterly atrocious. It may have been tainted, but Sawyer still had a _soul_, whereas Gunny Tom never had one to begin with. She grimaced. The fact that she was connected to this demonic man by _blood_ was a fact the ghost woman despised.

"Hell, I can even remember way back when..." Gunny Tom mused, "I dragged that China bitch at the ranch all those years ago! You remember that, Fred-Fred?! Yeah, I know you remember that. A hell of a lot happened that day. That little gangbanger got loose, I got stabbed with a pitchfork and had my goddamn eye torn out..." His tone of voice hinted that he was bitter at the affair.

"You came home with a damn near broken jaw, no doubt you got socked in the face and was prob'ly knocked out for some time while your daddy drowned...." Sawyer's eyes flashed a small glimmer of sorrow during the small pause that was taken after the mention of her father's death. Gunny Tom continued with his bitter reminiscing.

"And I remember when you came into the shed and saw me stuck to the wall, screamin' and cursin'. Hell, I was sufferin'. You ran off to get Uncle Charlie, but I also remember, right before you left to get 'im... you smiled." The Cleaner's eyes widened as she saw Gunny Tom reach behind his back with his free hand.

"You had turned around so quick, you thought I didn't see it? Oh, yeah, I sure as hell did, Fred-Fred. I saw that little smile of yours," he snarled as he took out a large bowie knife and held it centimeters from Sawyer's right eye. "You thought that was _real_ funny, didn't ya? Seein' your cousin Gunny Tom pinned to the wall, screamin' and pissin' himself while his guts poured out all over the place with a missing eyeball! You thought it was funny! A Texan with a missin' eye! You thought it was real _fuckin'_ funny!"

The large blade held to her eye, she stared at Gunny Tom's face, the features of a demon. Her blood red lips trembled, her ghastly flesh beginning to break into a cold sweat, sapphire blue eyes filling with all of the fright and dread she had felt when she was a child, mingling with and overpowering the hatred and contempt she harbored for the hellish male.

It was then that Gunny Tom pulled the knife away and laughed maniacally into Sawyer's face, forcing her to inhale a hideous stench of rotting flesh and cheap alcohol. He smiled, trying to create a kind facade, but it only served to show an even more lurid expression.

"Ha ha ha! Goddamn, Fred-Fred! I knew it all along. Here you were tryin' to act like you were some tough shit," he ran his thumb across the Cleaner's cheek, causing her to flinch, "But yer still just a little pale-faced brat that's scared of her ol' cousin, Gunny Tom." He loosened his grip on Sawyer's neck and allowed her to slide down the wall until her feet touched the ground. He then removed the lasso, but Sawyer did not relax as Gunnar moved the hand that had been on her throat to her shoulder.

"Well, that sure was fun," he grinned stupidly, "But it's time for business. Them street kids ain't going to hunt themselves. Now why don't you be a good girl and help cousin Gunny look for 'em?" He emphasized his point by squeezing her shoulder painfully. Looking away and wincing, the Cleaner nodded miserably.

"Atta girl! Now git your toy off'a that table. I got a good guess you take after your daddy and won't wanna leave without it, so go on." Gunnar gestured to her chainsaw. Sawyer quickly ran over to her beloved weapon and gripped it tightly, as though she drew a sense of comfort and ease from it. Her backed turned towards her cousin, her hand drifted to the ripcord, momentarily grabbing it. She was tempted to pull it and contemplated digging the carbide teeth of her chainsaw into the hideous creature that stood only a couple of feet away, but a sudden sense of fear and anxiety racked her senses and she sadly released the ripcord.

She slowly walked back over to Gunny Tom, who was standing by an open door. He now held a sawed-off shotgun.

"You get to lead, little lady," he gestured with the barrel of the shotgun. "Give your cousin a grand tour of the big city!"

Holding her head down solemnly and her sapphire eyes filled with grief, the ghost drifted down the halls of her domain, haunted by the demon that followed behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – The Good Doctor**

The central district felt oddly deserted as they walked slowly along the sidewalk of Sittarad Central Expressway back towards the docks and the rooms they called home. Most of the office space in the buildings were empty and available for rent, several were derelict and abandoned, black marks against an evening sky changing to a pinkish hue.

"Didn't know what to do with myself," Revy said finally. "I've had a killer headache all day so I went back home and guess what? Had a bag full of pain-killers by the bed, and they're all fucking gone. Now how did that happen? So I waved down a tuk-tuk and went looking for you."

So, Rock thought, you never lie – just leave out parts you don't like. He kept his eyes focused forward towards the bay. The harbor lights, strings of yellow and red light had just turned on and shimmered on the water.

Revy's unexpected appearance had shocked him, a haggard and worn complexion at odds with the feverish vitality of last night, the eyes dull. But what could he say that wouldn't set off the inevitable woe is me, tragic heroine act Revy could summon up as a defense? Her self serving, pathetic shield against taking responsibility for her actions?

"I was expected to go out at night with my superiors when I worked at Asahi Industries," said Rock without explanation. "I had a good reputation for... discretion. That was about all I had, someone who could be dumped on, who could be relied upon in the worst situations. Not too much different from now in a way"

"So, what does this have to do with anything?" said Revy suspiciously, her eyes flicking over. She pulled a crumpled package out of her pocket and fumbled for the last cigarette.

"There was a time when it got out of hand," explained Rock. "I was told to keep an eye on this one executive who had come up from Fukuoka, that's in the south of Japan, for a business meeting. We spent all night drinking as is expected, but then he insisted on going to the Kabukicho District, it's a red light district. Of course, I was expected to go with him."

Revy lit the cigarette. Her untied shoelaces made a little snapping noise against the boots with each stride she took.

"I waited in the lobby of the pink salon for four hours," Rock said with bitter remembrance. "The sun was coming up when all hell broke loose. Mr. Upper Salary man had loaded himself up on speed and bought himself a roomful of girls. We have a word for it in Japan, it's called _fukujoshi._"

Revy shrugged. She scratched her forearms.

"It means fucking yourself to death," said Rock uncommon crudity. "He took so much speed his heart blew out during the private little orgy he was having to celebrate his promotion. After that incident, I was a candidate for a business trip to the South China Seas. I needed to disappear from work. Wasn't a big stretch to take it even further when you kidnapped me."

They stopped at the curb at the crosswalk. Revy reached out and slowly grasped Rock's tie and pulled him over to her side.

"What a cute story, cry me a river Rock," she paused. "If you're trying to piss me off, you're succeeding. Be a shame if you can't load up your bullets in my gun anymore..."

"Revy!" interrupted Rock, he had lost what little patience he had, "You know as well as I do they get the girls hooked on yaba in the whorehouses and salons. That way they can make them work without a break, and if they burn out and die, it's no one's worry – there's always plenty of new flesh. I flushed your pills."

"You dirty bastard," she hissed, lurching up against him. "Where the fuck do you get off telling me how to live my life? What do you care? As long as you got me following you around doing your dirty work, it don't matter how much I smoke, how much I drink, who I fucking kill. I fuckin' do what I want! I always loaded up on yaba for missions, fuck, so does Dutch. It's the only way we can keep our edge."

"You're not on a goddamn job," bellowed Rock, his voice echoing between the buildings. He got in her face then, "This last month you've been gulping down those pills like you're the Bloodhound yourself. And it's going to drop you straight in the ground if you don't stop..."

"I CAN'T SLEEP!" Revy screamed, her face contorting into an unrecognizable mask. Her spittle sprayed his face, she was so close. She clawed at him. "I WON'T SLEEP! I CAN'T HANDLE THE FUCKING DREAMS ANYMORE!"

She pushed him away violently.

"It's always the same goddamn dream," she said, her voice cracking. Her eyes were large and wide. "Oh it changes, but I fuck up, I... go too far... Dutch warned me about it... and there's nowhere to go... I can't get out of the city... it's a trap... Chang fucks me every which way and then shows me the door... Eda won't give me the time of day... I can't find you or Benny... and all my friends from long ago... Tony, Sad Eyes, Jasmin... they died... they're all fucking torn apart and being shoveled up like refuse for the garbage pickup... so I freeze... and they get me..."

"Who gets you Revy," said Rock apalled and in absolute disbelief. He had seen Revy rattled before, but never had the facade cracked this wide open. "Who is it?

"_Anego_. It's Balalaika. Her men get me. All those men who love and adore her like some bitch goddess from hell. There's no one there for me though, and they fucking string me up on the bridge. And everyone's watches, it's a big fuckin' laugh riot as you all watch me shit and kick my life away cause _Anego_ won't even let them do the hanging right... I gotta die hard and slow, and no one... no one lifts a finger..."

Rock looked away, giving her a few minutes to compose herself. The Russian sergeant's words echoed in his mind and sent a chill down his spine , "_there is always the bridge..." _Rock had never given the noose there much thought, but it was apparently not an empty threat for those who broke the rules of the city.

Revy stared up into the sky, her eyes dark and hollow. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out Sawyer's gift. "And it don't matter who you are, when it's time you go down. Just like that. I'm already dead, Rock. I won't make thirty. But, but... it's starting to get to me... why won't the sun shine for me?"

Rock opened his mouth, but what came out was not what he intended. Instead, all he said was, "Watsup."

They both looked over as the maroon and white cruiser with the TNPD logo came to a screeching halt beside them. The window rolled down and a figure leaned out, forearm resting on the door.

"Mr. Okajima, isn't it?" said Chief Watsup. The mirrored sunglasses hid the watchful eyes. "And I see you're with your shadow. For a moment there we thought you were soliciting a prostitute."

Rock laughed easily, though he was far too aware of Revy standing silently behind him with her head turned away and the hands hanging loosely by her sides. "No, I just finished up some work for the Bougainvillea Trading Company." That would be enough of a hint for the Chief to not pursue the matter further. "How's the golf handicap these days?"

"I'm a regular Tiger Woods," grunted the Chief shifting his bulk. "Levy, Two-hands! What do you know about all these under-aged hookers running about town dressed up like you? We've been told to round them all up, so don't get alarmed if my men harass you a lot in the next few days.

The Chief laughed and slapped the flat of his hand against the car door. "Hell, we might even bring you in for a strip search and interrogation just for old time's sake. Haw!"

"If there's anything else we can be of assistance, please let us know," said Rock firmly. He made a point of stepping in between Revy and the police car. In Revy's current emotional state, there was no telling what could happen.

"Move along," said the Chief leaning back in his seat. "We can't have Two-hands walking around in public. Get her back down to the docks. The good people don't need to be upset. Have a night."

He waved as the cruiser pulled away from the curb.

"Revy," said Rock turning. The next thing he knew she was leaning up against him for support, her thighs pressed up against his and her head sagging on his chest. He pressed his hand against her forehead, "Revy, you're burning up. You're sick. You need a doctor"

"I can't fall asleep," mumbled Revy. "Don't let me sleep Rock. Did you hear what that dumbfuck cop said? They're looking for me – they're looking for me and Jasmin... I mean that Russian cripple. I told you, they need to get out of the city before it's too late. In my dreams no one lifts a finger, no one helps. We have to... we have to..."

"The Russian gir'ls name is Gaavrila Kazakhova," said Rock. "Boris said we should start with Dr. Chiet. But they can wait, we need to take care of you first."

Revy looked up slowly. She blinked. "You just said I needed to see a doctor."

The hair noose slipped from her hand and fell unnoticed to the curb. The evening sky was blood red.

---

Lachada Street only became active at twilight, the neon signs lit up the sidewalks in a garish multicolored hue, the early night crowd appearing and congregating outside such spots as the Goof Fest or the G Spot, newly re-opened. The heavy pulse of Metallica and other heavy metal music thundered from the club entrances. In the alleyways and unlit spots, groups of hard men lurked, only sinking into the deeper shadows when a solitary police cruiser made a habitual pass down the street.

Rock avoided looking back at Revy who lagged an uncharacteristic step behind. He thought of sharks who could literally smell fear, sense the distress of prey by the erratic motions of a wounded animal. He felt the unwanted scrutiny of hunters upon them who sensed something amiss, sensed weakness where none had been before. The image of a wounded tigress taken down by hyenas, a shrill screaming in the night...

The screaming was a siren. The distraction was a young Japanese girl who stumbled out into the road and was overtaken by police officers. They wrestled her to the curbside while the unsympathetic onlookers watched.

"_Tasukete kudasai!" _the girl wailed as she was dragged to the waiting police car. "_Watashi no name Ayame Tanaka desu! Tasukete kudasai!_"

"Don't look," Revy muttered in an attempt at awareness as she drew even with Rock at the crosswalk. He had stopped to watch with horrified sympathy. "Not our problem. Keep walking." She pushed him forward.

"How long have you been awake, when did this all start?" Rock blurted out, distracted.

Revy shrugged wearily, scratched at the bandage on her arm. "I dunno, five days or so. Before that I went almost a whole week before I crashed. You can only get so tired...if you hadn't flushed the pills..."

They crossed the street. Rock allowed himself a glance back. No one followed as they moved silently down a poorly lit side road away from the red-light district into a quiet ramshackle residential area, a few sparse blocks on the slope above the warehouses that stringed the bay.

"This way," said Rock gesturing and turned down a nondescript side road flanked by apartment houses hiding their dinginess in the gathering darkness. They came to a stop outside a small fenced in lot with a modernized Thai bungalow. There was only a faint glimmer of light from inside the shuttered window. "Boris said we needed to go in the back and ring the bell. This Doctor Chiet runs an underground clinic for the _Mafiya_ and the Triads that goes unreported to the authorities."

"Why'd you look, Rock? I told you not to look? " Revy burst out wildly, scratching harder at her arms. "Heroin! Maybe I've been going at this all wrong. Hear that's stuff like kissin' creation."

Rock gritted his teeth but said nothing. He pushed open the rusted metal gate with a creak. It took only a moment to step up on the small back porch and press the doorbell..

Silence, except for Revy's increasingly incoherent muttering. Rock shifted uneasily and pressed the button, then he held it down. The shrill buzz from within was audible.

He leaned forward as he heard the floor creak behind the door, then it opened a crack. A worried eye peered around the lock chain and examined them.

" Bougainvillea business," said Rock. "We need to talk ..."

The door slammed, a lock clicked. Rock frowned and turned to Revy. "Looks like the doctor's not up for house calls."

"Outta the way!" Revy lurched up on the porch and threw herself at the door. She bounced off, regained her balance and threw herself at the door again. On the second attempt, to Rock's surprise the flimsy door splintered on impact and Revy went sprawling head over heels with a yelp.

Rock took a chance and followed quickly, into the short hallway, stepping over the splintered wreckage and the cursing Revy. Just inside there was a small poorly lit kitchen area with a table. The three occupants stood around the table in surprised poses staring at the intruders.

"You broke my door!" the man gasped, fumbling for an inhaler. The young boy who stood next to him hissed and with a sudden movement unsheathed a heavy machete from the sheath strapped to his back. A girl, indeed the girl who looked too much like a younger version of Revy, sidled towards the doorway to the living room.

"You're not going anywhere girlie," snarled Revy coming to her feet, the Berettas drawn and covering. "Twice in two days, boy – still think you're faster than a gun?"

"There's no need for alarm Dr. Chiet," Rock said into the tense atmosphere. "I apologize for the entrance, but in the future I would recommend not closing the door on us. Do you mind if I sit? Revy?"

Rock made a show of pulling the chair slowly away from the table, he adjusted his tie carefully before seating himself with his hand folded in his lap. As the minute dragged on the boy lowered the machete slowly, though he kept his unblinking gaze fixed on Revy. Revy sneered in return, but holstered the guns. She moved past the counter and leaned up against an open spot on the opposite wall and looked away.

"Who do you think you are? You're not the Russians," wheezed the man painfully. He was small of stature and bald, of Vietnamese origin. "How dare you..."

"I represent the Bougainvillea Trading Company in a way," said Rock, clearing his throat. "I'm sure you and your young guests have some knowledge of what I speak of Dr. Chiet? A hundred thousand in American dollars that was unfortunately misplaced? "

"Fuck! FUCK! YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!" howled Revy, spinning about. "Look at the fucking pictures on the wall! He's a fucking sick ass stereo pedophile! Rock move! He's fucking dead!"

"Wait!" screamed Dr. Chiet with a look of shock on his face. He stumbled back from the table. "What are you talking about?"

Rock sprang to his feet as Revy stormed forward. The boy sprang forward, swinging the machete, but Revy ducked under the blow and slammed an open palm under the boy's jaw. The boy rose up and fell backwards over the table. The girl shrieked and stumbled away.

"Revy stop!" shouted Rock. She wasn't listening. She grabbed Chiet by the front of his shirt and dragged him over to the wall she had been leaning up against moments before. With berserker strength she thrust the doctor up against the wall, the barrel of a Beretta digging into Chiet's side.

"Look at them, it's the last fuckin' thing you'll ever see," she snarled. She gestured at the rows of polaroids carefully thumbtacked into the wall. "How slow do you want it to be?"

"Every child there is one I've saved from this city," gasped the doctor painfully. "Saved them from monsters like you who choose not to do a damn thing to help. Are you so far gone you can't recognize a real smile, a true look of joy? What do you see?"

Revy froze. Rock stepped over to the wall and looked carefully with Revy at the arranged montage. Each picture showed a girl or a boy either alone or standing with Chiet. On the bottom of almost all the photos were scrawled words of thanks and gratitude.

"I can't save them all but I try," explained the doctor. "There's nothing here in this city, no charities, no aid agencies, nothing. Misery upon untold misery, prey for the criminals, the perverts, the sex tourists. Do you know how many I've buried and wept for? No one cares, no one but me and the Russian girl and it's a war we're losing."

Rock placed his hand on Revy's shoulder, she jerked away from his touch but released the doctor. "Revy, let me take care of this," Rock said gently. " It's what you asked of me. Why don't you step outside on the porch and get a smoke? I won't be long and then we'll get you taken care of, okay.

Revy stepped back. Her hands shook as she holstered the guns. But before she could turn for the door the girl stood up and pointed at Revy. She suddenly spoke in a trembling voice brimming with hatred.

"Mr. Jackpot, he said men would love me if I look like you. They didn't. They hurt me, they hit me. Look, they burnt me," Niken pulled up the black tanktop with no concern for modesty showed a row of ugly scabbed wounds on her breasts. "And the bad men wouldn't be hunting us down if you hadn't shown up and killed everybody the day before. I didn't know the bag had money. _Tak guna, nyusahkan kiteorang je!_ I hope you die and go to hell!"

"Already there," Revy said looking away. She stepped out the door.

---

"We need to be quick about this," said Rock. His thoughts were on the broken woman waiting for him outside. Niken helped the dazed Parang to a chair.

"It was the Wo Triad then? They must have leaned on the police," said Dr. Chiet rapidly. "Gaavrila arranged through me a pickup from a charity in Pattaya – they sent a van down. That bastard Watsup and his men must have stopped the van, roughed up the social workers and taken all the children away."

"The Wo Triad will want to make an example," said Rock frowning. "I've met Lee Kwan and he's not the type of man who would be satisfied with the money being merely returned. There was too much loss of face involved."

"Then what to do?" said Dr. Chiet. The man was near to crying in frustration. He sat down abruptly and leaned back in the chair on the back two metal legs. "From what Parang and Niken had told me tonight, Gaavrila and close to thirty others are holed up in an abandoned warehouse down on the waterfront, near where the Buddhist temple used to be, too afraid to even go out. The police are bad enough, but what if the Triad has put out a bounty?"

"The warehouse by the hell garden?" said Rock surprised. And then he smiled. "There's a way out. We can take them all on the _Black Lagoon_. We're less than 400 meters down the beach road from that building."

Dr. Chiet's mouth dropped. "You would do that?"

"For a price," said Rock dryly. He adjusted his tie. "I think for half of that 100 thousand we can make a special night-time cruise for as many children as we can pack on the boat and no one the wiser. I'm sorry about the price, but my co-workers aren't ones for charity, and, well, I am a villain in training."

"Done!" said Chiet slamming the palm of his hand against the table top. Niken bit her lip and looked at the floor

Something mechanical and malevolent coughed and snarled to life in a rising roar from just outside the front door. Rock started to his feet, at the all too familiar and dreadful sound he had hoped never to hear again.

"What, what is that?" faltered the doctor.

---

Splinters of wood flew outwards as a slim bar of metal edged with rotating mechanical teeth burst through the front door, moving in a senseless pattern and leaving random gashes in the door before it collapsed. The fallen entrance revealed the dull glint of the moon silhouetting a petite female with a ghastly complexion.

Stepping over the splintered door, her eyes wandered wearily along the dimly lit living room and down the short hallway that lead to the kitchen, immediately spotting Dr. Chiet with the children... and Rock. They fumbled around a bit as they looked back at her with shocked expressions. She took slow, heavy steps towards the group.

"Ghost woman!" Niken shrieked. Rock cursed inwardly as he and the others made their way towards the back door. Damn it, what was Sawyer the Cleaner doing here?

Niken dashed towards the back door, forgetting about the cruel gun girl that was presumably guarding the exit. Chiet, Rock and Parang stopped in their tracks and gasped as they noticed a shadowed figure appear in the doorway. It wasn't Revy.

"Stop, Niken, _stop_! Come back!" Parang yelled. Her eyes narrowed to a teary squint, Niken neglected to acknowledge the boy's command. She continued to run until she bumped into the figure waiting there and fell back upon impact. Niken looked up and saw a sickly looking man with an eye patch. He held a lasso in one hand while the other hand was behind his back.

"Hello there," he chuckled with a crooked smile. He took out a bowie knife and swiped at Niken. She jerked herself to the side and screamed, the tip of the blade grazing her cheek. Her mind frantic, she scrambled back into the kitchen.

Keeping mind of the chainsaw wielding cleaner gradually making her way towards them, Rock was perplexed. Who was that guy?

"So this is where the doctor is! Good job, cousin Fred-Fred!" the man shouted. Rock's confusion grew. Cousin? Fred-Fred?

Upon hearing the word "doctor," everyone who was cornered, especially Chiet, knew the attackers were there for him.

"_Pegi belakang aku! Cepat!"_ Parang growled as he turned towards the man holding the bowie knife. With the machete he took an overhead swing at the man, but the sickly foe dodged the attack by moving to the side at the last second. The man smirked, kicking Parang in the face and sent the boy reeling down the short hall and back into the kitchen, still gripping the machete. Blood leaking from his nose, Parang shakily got back to his feet.

By now, Sawyer was in the kitchen, and thus was much closer to the group than the male with the bowie knife who was now lingering by the back door, watching the event with a perverse smile. The only labeled warrior of the group, Parang now boldly rushed towards the chainsaw wielding woman with his machete raised overhead and made a slashing motion for her side. There was a dull "clunk" as Sawyer easily blocked the motion with the flat side of the guide bar.

Unnoticed by all, Niken crawled past the combatants into the living room. Instead of making for the front entry, the frantic girl instead slipped out of sight between a half opened door that led to the basement.

Before Parang could try another maneuver, Rock yanked him by the back of his shirt and pushed the boy behind him to join Chiet.

"Don't be so foolish!" Rock said. He cautiously looked at Sawyer's face. Strange. There was a slight notion of shock as he noticed that the ghost woman's normally cold, dispassionate eyes were filled with an upsetting mix of wrath and melancholy. Stranger yet, she just stood in place while the whirring teeth of her chainsaw continued to rotate instead of cutting into everyone.

"C'mon, Fred-Fred," the sickly man drawled, "Just cut through everythin' and get me the doctor. Stop fuckin' around."

The ghost woman winced. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want anything to do with this. But she knew she didn't have a choice.

Frustrated and distraught, Sawyer raised her chainsaw and thrust it towards Rock. There was a clang followed by metallic grinding as Rock quickly grabbed one of the chairs, using the metal legs as a shield. Sparks flew from the friction. Sawyer's eyes narrowed.

She wasn't in the mood to savor nor prolong the situation. The metallic grinding came to a halt as she drew the chainsaw back and swung it around and below the chair. Rock quickly stepped away, trying to avoid the hungry blades. He grunted aloud as the teeth momentarily bit at the skin of his thigh. The contact only left a wound that was just a centimeter or two deep, certainly not enough to dismember, but definitely caused enough pain to let Rock know he had been cut.

"Damn, Fred-Fred, what the hell was that?" A loud bang followed afterwards, the glasses and dishes in the rack on the counter shattering. The shot had missed Sawyer by a foot or two. The young cleaner jumped back from the shock. The man now held his sawed-off shotgun. Sawyer warily looked at him, she knew he had missed on purpose, and she knew that couldn't do much about it. A chainsaw wasn't a match against a sawed-off shotgun.

Taking note of the awkward interaction between the two attackers as their attention was momentarily focused on each other and not the group, Chiet looked back at Rock and Parang.

"The bedroom! Get out of here, _now!_" They didn't need to be told twice. They fell back towards the entrance to Chiet's bedroom on the opposite side of the kitchen. Parang guided Rock towards the bathroom in the back to escape out the window. The man with the eye patch quickly moved to stop them from escaping but Chiet boldly blocked his way.

"You leave them alone," demanded Chiet with a light quiver in his voice, "You both came here for a doctor, for me, right? Well, I am here. Who are you? What do you want?"

The man with the eye patch seethed with a smirk.

"Gunny Tom, at yer service. I have a couple a' questions to ask you."

--

Rock and Parang were outside, running away from Chiet's residence through the narrow gaps between the houses. Rock gasped as the sharp stinging in his thigh caused by Sawyer's chainsaw slightly hindered him.

That strange man; Sawyer's cousin... He had come in through the back door, the entrance that Revy was supposed to guard. If Sawyer's cousin entered through that way, then that meant Revy had not been on the porch. Rock, the kids and Dr. Chiet had been left to fend for themselves back there, Revy had not heard the commotion or had been unable to assist. As Rock followed Parang down towards the docks and the warehouses, he could only ask himself one heart-stopping question:

Was Revy dead?

--

Niken's common sense and logic had been lost to adrenaline and fear. Her heart was still pounding, but her mind had become clear, more aware of her surroundings and where she currently was. The basement was the worst possible choice, there was no exit. It was all too late for any other action so she squeezed behind the clutter formed from extra mattresses, bookcases, medical textbooks and newspapers stored in the basement. She was boxed into a cubicle-like structure and had a newspaper covering her head. It blended into the surrounding clutter. No one would know she was there unless they scrupulously tore the basement to shreds.

Niken shook in the darkness of the basement and curled into a ball, mentally muttering to herself. Bandage Man... Vampire Twins... Ghost Woman... Demon Man...

This truly was an evil city. She was afraid of darkness and afraid of small spaces, but the knowledge that the attackers were still outside scared her even more and kept her in place. Fear of being killed overrode claustrophobia for now. She couldn't move from her hiding place. Not until she was sure it was safe.

"Talk, goddamn it!" The sound of a fist meeting someone's face was heard and someone tumbled down the concrete steps of the basement. A lone light bulb dangling from the ceiling dully lit the room as someone hit the light switch, but due to her current position, Niken still couldn't see anything.

Dr. Chiet was sprawled on the patch of ground that was clear of clutter, deep bruises adorning his face as blood leaked from his mouth and nose. He wheezed heavily, his vision clouded by the swells of his black eyes.

Gunny Tom came down the steps with a snarl and spat on Dr. Chiet.

"Stubborn bastard, ain't ya?" Gunny Tom looked up and saw a series of thick pipes along the ceiling. He smiled wickedly.

Gunny Tom proceeded to tie Chiet's feet together with his lasso and dragged the helpless doctor across the floor. The cruel Texan stepped onto a pile of tattered textbooks to reach one of the pipes.

As Gunny Tom finished with hanging Dr. Chiet upside down, he looked over the doctor's battered body and at the door leading to the basement.

"Get down here where I can keep an eye on ya, Fred-Fred."

Sawyer padded softly down the steps, her chainsaw silent, a deep sense of depression and turmoil in her eyes. Noticing Gunny Tom brandishing his bowie knife and waving it from side to side to taunt Dr. Chiet, Sawyer sat on the final step and neatly laid her chainsaw at her feet, her legs huddled to her chest as her hands rested on her knees, the bottom half of her face hiding behind them. With a soft exhale, Sawyer looked off to the side, distant. She knew what was going to take place.

"To make things interestin'," Gunny Tom sneered, "I'm gonna ask you a question, and for every time you don't give me the answer I want, I'm gonna cut you." Dr. Chiet groaned, his vision moving between blurriness and clarity as his body slowly spun around. He saw Sawyer in the distance. The Cleaner's eyes were sorrowful, yet somehow detached from the situation at hand. Gunny Tom noticed where Chiet's attention was and spun the doctor around once more so Chiet was facing Gunny Tom.

"Don't mind Fred-Fred. She won't cut you. She never did like doin' anything with the family. Whenever we brought a guest to the ranch, she always went up in the attic to go off in her own little world." Gunnar's tone bordered on annoyance and mocking. A bright shine on the bowie knife, Gunny Tom smirked as he lowered himself to look into Chiet's beaten face.

"Now tell me, where are the kids? You gotta know, I saw all those damn cute photos you got tacked to the wall up there."

Dr. Chiet spat at Gunny Tom. The demonic man wiped off the mix of saliva and blood.

"That's gonna cost ya." With one swift movement, Gunny Tom cut off Dr. Chiet's thumb and index finger.

As an agonizing cry tore at the doctor's throat, Niken placed a hand over her mouth to silence a whimper that would reveal her hiding place. She couldn't see anything, but she knew very well that Dr. Chiet was being hurt by the attackers she had run away from. Tears began to form in her eyes as a sound much like that of a thick liquid dripping to the floor reached her ears. She knew then that Chiet was bleeding.

Gunny Tom continued with the interrogation, but to no avail. Chiet remained silent, refusing to give up the location of the children. With every act of defiance came another horrid cry from the doctor as Gunny Tom added to the pile of fingers in the growing pool of blood below.

Gunny Tom held the blade dangerously close to Chiet's eyes.

"You don't have any more fingers. Are ya gonna tell me where the kids are or do ya wanna lose more things that you were born with more than one of?" Gunny Tom's voice had a hint of a quiver, his blood quickly beginning to boil.

"You fool," Chiet murmured, now fading in and out of consciousness due to the immense pain and the blood rushing to his head, "I won't tell you anything."

There was a horrible scream as the knife was thrust into Chiet's right eye, gouging it out of the socket and then tossing it to the floor. Before the scream could die down, Gunnar stabbed Chiet's left eye and it instantly followed the fate of the eye before it.

Screams, cries, and the knowledge of a family member being the cause aforementioned sounds. Sawyer sighed, her eyes were now closed as her chin rested on top of her knees in an attempt to tune out the noise. The homestead, a place she thought she had left so long ago, had followed her back to the city.

Small droplets of blood leaked from between Niken's fingers as she bit her lip. After much questioning and an angry string of profanities by what she thought was the demon man, she heard a sound like a thick piece of meat being punctured, followed shortly by the combination of Dr. Chiet's screaming and the sound of flesh being sliced.

Gunny Tom began to laugh in a derisive manner as he butchered Chiet alive. There was a sharp snap or a sudden crunch as he used his hands to pry at the ribs. The pool of blood below splashed lightly as more fluid and more parts were added. It was only a matter of time until the screaming ceased and the vile frenzy ended abruptly. Chiet's mutilated body lightly swung back and forth as Gunny Tom observed what he had done. His hands drenched in blood, Gunny Tom licked the blade of his bloodied bowie knife before putting it back in its sheath. He then reached up and loosened the rope around the dead doctor's feet. The corpse hit the ground with a heavy thud.

After untying the rope from the thick pipe above, Gunny Tom walked over to where his cousin sat.

Sawyer's eyes were still closed and she was still curled into a ball, now gripping her chainsaw tightly in an attempt to find solace away from the memories of her past at the homestead. Sawyer only managed to crack her eyes open by an iota before Gunnar hissed and kicked her in the shins.

"Get the hell up, Fred-Fred!" Shaken from her trance, the Cleaner lifted one of her hands off of her chainsaw and rubbed the spot that Gunnar had kicked, dark blue eyes contorted in pain.

"C'mon, we don't got all night. Move your ass." Gunny Tom lifted Sawyer by the collar of her shirt and roughly pushed her towards the stairs. Sawyer grudgingly trudged up the steps as Gunny Tom took his sawed-off shotgun out of its custom holster and pressed it into her back in an act of "motivation."

"Make yourself useful and track down some other leads..." The voice and footsteps eventually faded away. Niken stayed in her hiding place for a good minute or two before peering over the clutter of her hiding place and directly at the door, making sure not to let her eyes trail to the patch of ground that Chiet's body was likely to be lying. No hunters in sight. She slowly emerged from her hiding place and crawled on all fours cautiously, careful not to make a sound. She huddled as close to the sides of the basement as possible and kept her eyes transfixed on the wall, slowly making her way towards the stairs.

Dr. Chiet? What had they done to Dr. Chiet?

No, no. She wouldn't let herself to look at his body. Just keep staring at the wall, just keep crawling. Don't look, _jangan tengok, jangan tengok!_

Of course she looked.

There in a pool of his own blood and body parts lay Dr. Chiet, hands nothing more than stubs, mouth parted with two gaping holes where his eyes once were. There was an enormous gash from his collar to the bottom of his gut, stripped and gutted of all of his vital organs, ribcage split open to the point of revealing his spine.

--

Walking away, Sawyer and Gunny Tom had only gained a distance of a couple of feet from the dead doctor's residence. They heard a blood curdling scream come from inside the building. Getting a dimwitted gawk on his face, Gunny Tom cackled.

"Hot damn! Sounds like that brat I cut! Let's go back, Fred-Fred!" He ran back into the house. Sawyer held her head down miserably and followed him back in.

--

Tears streamed down Niken's face and she sobbed, coughing slightly as vomit leaked from between the gaps of the fingers she held over her mouth. Trembling violently to the point of being unable to walk upright, she used her arms to back herself away from Chiet's mutilated corpse, struggling to crawl backwards up the steps. Zoned out, the girl continued to move backwards and felt her back hit someone's legs. Niken looked up and saw the demon man with the eye patch. She screamed once more and tried to stand and run away, but Gunny Tom grabbed her with a bloody hand by the back of her shirt and lifted her off of the ground. He walked back into the front hallway and threw her into a corner.

"Well, what do we got here?" Gunny Tom grinned as he waved his bowie knife back and forth, "You were here all along? I never would'a known if you hadn't stopped to admire my work." Niken's eyes bulged as she saw Sawyer the Cleaner appear behind Gunny Tom's shoulder, with the chainsaw in hand

_"Tak! jangan! Tolonglah jangan bunuh aku! Ampun! Aku tak nak mati tolonglah jangan bunuh aku! Tolonglah!" _she wailed.

Gunny Tom shook his head, his one eye narrowing to a squint "Don't understand a goddamn word she's yammering. Wasted our time coming back." He raised the knife while Sawyer sighed hopelessly.

Niken remembered the question the demon had kept asking Dr. Chiet in the basement.

"Please don't kill me!" Niken pleaded desperately, remembering to use English. "I'll tell you where the other children are! On the water front! A warehouse by the hell garden! There! You find them all there! You can kill them all! Just, please, let me go!" As Niken continued to struggle and plead for her life, Gunny Tom's eye lit up. A warehouse by a hell garden? He had no knowledge of the location, but he had a good bet that his cousin Fred-Fred did. He smiled grimly.

Sawyer's reaction differed. That girl must have screamed because she saw the butchered body in the basement, and she somehow _knew_ that Gunny Tom was looking for the other street children. The melancholy left Sawyer's eyes and was replaced with a complete sense of disgust. That kid saw what Gunny Tom had done to Dr. Chiet and she was just going to submit her own kind to the same fate? That gutless, repulsive, little _traitor_...

With a snarl, Sawyer yanked the ripcord on her chainsaw and the teeth roared to life. That treacherous child didn't deserve to live.

Niken screamed again as she saw the Cleaner rush towards her with her chainsaw. Luckily for the young girl, Gunny Tom grabbed a handful of Sawyer's hair and pulled her back.

"Hey, hey, hey! Fred-Fred! What the hell are you doin'?" He tightened his grip, a silent way of telling Sawyer to stop and to remind her who the "boss" of the situation was. The Cleaner grudgingly complied and lowered her chainsaw. Gunny Tom released Sawyer and then grabbed Niken by the arm.

"A warehouse by the waterfront?"

"Y-yes," Niken nodded. Gunny Tom got face-to-face with the young girl and licked his lips.

"Well, then you better lead the way."

"B-but I –"

"Shut your pie hole. I ain't lettin' ya go. I wanna make sure you ain't bullshittin' me, so yer comin' along with me and Fred-Fred for the trip. Now come on." He shoved Niken forward and she stumbled to regain her balance. Running away crossed her mind, but she remembered that the man had a sawed-off shotgun and knew she didn't stand a chance. Not wanting to try their patience, Niken fearfully looked back at her captors and nodded nervously.

As Niken led the way, Gunny Tom had a smug look as Sawyer trailed behind.

"You China girls might not be too bright, but at least you're good for somethin'."

Sawyer was still quite sour about her current situation, but she found herself privately amused at Gunny Tom's statement. She remembered earlier when that man from the Lagoon Company – Rock, was it? – had run away with the other child, probably to the warehouse where all the children were. If there was one thing she was certain of, wherever Rock was present, Two-Hands wouldn't be too far behind.

Sawyer kept this to herself. She knew Gunny Tom was more or less using her as a hunting dog of sorts, but that didn't mean she was obligated to tell her decrepit cousin of _every_ detail she acknowledged on this hunt, especially when she was aware that Gunnar himself didn't know about them. She saw no point in illuminating the jackass.

Besides, Sawyer was more concerned with figuring a way out of this accursed hunt for herself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine – Hell Garden Hunt**

Revy stepped off the porch. Have to get out of the light, she thought, everybody out there's watching and – wait a second! - They're all out there in the black scoping in the headshot. KERPLOOEY! And her brain would be all technicolor spray and her body would do the chicken dance.

She stumbled to the right and sat down abruptly in a dark triangle of shadow by the corner of the bungalow. Rock and the doctor, that croaker, were talking too loud inside. Why were they so loud? Oh, she'd made a spectacle of herself bellowing about the photos. How stupid was that? She cradled her head in her hands pressing the cool metal grips of the Cutlasses against her forehead.

It's just stupid that I'm in this bullshit world, the thoughts fogged together in the climate of her mind.. Hanging off the edge of nothing all the time with only Rock – what? – oh hell, she'd done it again! Admitted she needed someone, something. Going all tender and makin' like a sissy pig as Eda leaned back and bayed like a dog.

She should go back in the bungalow. Convince little Revy (who had to be so much cooler than that suckup bitch Fabiola had ever been) that big Revy was not a monster. Rock and Revy could buy her ice cream and pizza, and they could sit with their feet dangling off the edge of the pier and watch the sun set – though come to think of it, they'd be facing the wrong way. But... Dutch would shake his head and Benny would mutter something about jumping sharks or some douchebag comment. The vision faded incoherently away.

She lowered the guns, squinting at them with a too serious expression. The guns, her lovely guns. Rock was wrong, violence solved everything. The guns could solve her, she could take the terminal ticket, blow the bullet, do the dutch...

Do the dutch... she giggled wildly.

"How fuckin' wrong is that?" she chuckled. Not that doing Dutch would have been wrong. After all she had tried pulling a lolita on the man when she was younger, the new arrival in Roanapur. Hell, if he'd given her half a chance back then, she would have given Dutch a boat ride that would have sunk the Black Lagoon at it's mooring. She would have...

A car grinded to a halt outside the gated fence. Irritated, Revy looked up, her reverie on death and sex broken. A car door slammed and shadowed figures milled uncertainly about. Light glinted off the gun-barrels.

A voice spoke low, berating the gunmen. The men scrambled hastily back into the car. It moved away slowly up the road, the tires crunching on the loose cinders of the street.

Revy placed the voice with the man. Zuko, no it was Zugen. a brute of a man who spent too much time at the Yellow Flag staring at her ass. The leader of the Red Pole squad: Lee Kwan's chosen toughs, members of the Wo Triad specifically hired to "snuff out" any problems that needed to be dealt with. A pack of losers in her opinion, they lacked the class of the 14K.

A smile flickered over Revy's tired features. Well, then... what were Zugen and the Red Poles doing skulking about? She stood up and in a few quick steps vaulted over the fence. The car had come to a stop about fifty meters away, brakelights on.

Revy had an ephemeral thought of Rock speaking with that goody-two-shoes Dr. Chiet and negotiating the best way out of Roanapur for those two girls. There was no need for her to go back then. Rock didn't need her around momentarily. Besides, what was the worst that could happen while she kept an eye on the Red Pole squad?

--

Gaavrila wrote in her cribbed cyrillic in the tattered pages of her diary, frail body hunched in the wheelchair. _More came throughout the day, we have close to forty now in our refuge, we're packed in so tight with all our smells and fears. I can only hope no one noticed. They tell terrible stories, the police are sweeping the streets for street kids. Niken has put us all in terrible danger. I can only hope the doctor has been..._

Gaavrila looked up with a frown and squinted down the length of the building. Her spot was in the center of the warehouse, a semi-enclosure of stacked, rusted barrels. Above her was an odd arrangement of cans, hanging from strings. There was no electrical, so the children had rigged up candle lanterns in random locations from the metal beams overhead, enough to dimly illuminated some of the interior. They huddled in separate groups under the pale pools of light.

Alak came rushing up to Gaavrila. "Parang's back," he said hurriedly. He's brought a man with him, something bad's happened. He won't tell us what."

"What? Bring them to me now," Gaavrila said sharply. She tossed the diary aside into her small pile of belongings. Resting by the side of Gaavrila's wheelchair, the mute girl Rohingya stirred and sat up rubbing her eyes. Throughout the warehouse, children were scrambling to their feet, voices raised in curiosity, with an undercurrent of fear.

As the man approached with Parang, Gaavrila's sized him up. He was a medium sized Japanese man with a shock of black hair on the right side of his forehead. He was limping slightly, one of his pant legs was torn and the fabric bloodstained. Gaavrila's eyes narrowed. I know this man, she thought.

She kept her face composed as Rohingya draped a blanket around her shoulders like a robe, pulled it down to cover the stumps of her legs. Both Alak and Chaiyo drifted into place flanking her like a military guard. Mikey came up and joined the group, standing slightly behind. They all stared with wary, hard expressions at their unexpected guest.

"Dr. Chiet made a deal with the Black Lagoon Couriers," said Parang without preamble. He sat down crosslegged in front of the group with his machete in his lap. He gestured to the Japanese man to do likewise. "For half of the money, they can take us out of the city in a way no one expects. While the triad goons and the police watch the roads, we'll sail right out of the port and no one the wiser."

Gaavrila nodded. Parang was not telling the whole truth. The words were for the gathered crowd around them who were listening intently. Parang had dried blood crusted on his lip and he was speaking too rapidly. Similarly, the Japanese man looked pale, a disturbed expression on his face.

"When can this be done?" she asked in her raspy voice, shifting in the wheelchair.

"Now," said the Japanese man in English, speaking directly to her. "There's no time. But, we didn't have time to speak about the particulars with your friend the doctor." He hesitated, looking around at the silent crowd. "I had no idea so many children were here. I had expected maybe ten at most."

Gaavrila ignored him. She looked at Parang and indicated he should translate for the gathered children. "We're all leaving. We'll leave tomorrow on a boat. But we wait till dawn. Now, I need to speak to this man alone."

"You can't wait," said Rock his voice rising. "You don't understand..."

"What I do understand," snapped Gaavrila switching to her native tongue as the gathered children milled about. "Is that most everyone here knows English. And I know you speak Russian, . I can tell something is wrong. They're all on edge, they're scared, we don't want a panic."

--

"What happened and when?" asked Gaavrila. The twins and Mikey had gone back on guard duty, only Rohingya stayed by her side.

"It was the Ghost Woman. We were attacked at the doctor's a half hour ago" Both girls gasped. Parang bowed his head. "She's on the hunt, and there's someone... something... else with her. I was totally useless – I couldn't stop them. I lost Niken... again. I'm sorry. I think she got out."

"Do you understand now why you can't wait?" Rock said urgently. "They had no trouble finding Dr. Chiet. It's only a matter of time before those two hunters find you here. The best thing to do is to get out now – we can hide you all in our building while I get my crewmates assembled."

"No!" said Gaavrila. "I won't allow anyone to go out tonight. There's too many of us now. The police are looking everywhere, and if what you say is true then we'll be spotted by either the Ghost Woman and her companion or the police as we move to the docks. Dr. Chiet would never talk! He's been roughed up by the triads before. We'll wait for morning."

"Dr. Chiet is probably dead," said Rock coldly. "Sawyer the Cleaner's idea of an interrogation - if she's ever bothered with one, involves cutting and sawing. You don't survive whether you tell the truth or not. And that man with her, I've never seen him before – but he looks even worse. You go now or don't see the dawn."

Gaavrila looked away. Rohingya started to cry, she put her head in Gaavrila's lap.

"I won't risk anyone," decided Gaavrila. "These children are my responsibility. Look around Mr. Okajima, we're the garbage of Roanapur. Most of us aren't even Thai. Abandoned and cast aside in a foreign land. We have only ourselves."

Rock shuddered. The crippled girl's voice was like a rough saw. Her blue eyes had a fixed intensity he found disconcerting. But all he had to do was slide his hand down to the still bleeding cut on his thigh to keep his focus. He made one more attempt.

"If you send them down the street in small groups, staying in the shadows, it will be easier..."

"_Nyet!_" Gaavrila slapped the palm of her hand against the plastic arm-rail of her makeshift wheelchair for emphasis, her voice breaking. "_Nyet! Nyet!_ We're paying you! We'll tell you how it's done! So, No! We wait till dawn and you'll stay here with us."

Rock slumped, shoulders sagging. He watched as the groups of children began to settle down for the night. With a sardonic twitch of his lip he wondered if this qualified as another kidnapping. Parang and those vicious looking twins would be all over him in a moment if he attempted to leave. He really needed to find the missing Revy. His thoughts had been on her during the entire discussion.

As if reading his mind the Russian girl spoke.

"I don't understand why you're helping us? Just yesterday, your "friend" Two-hands threw me to the ground and put a gun to my head. Is it only for the money?"

"This whole affair was Revy's idea," the girl gave him a confused look. "But there's no point asking, let's say it's for the money."

Gaavrila smiled. She brushed back her hair and and started to laugh. But the laughter died stillborn as the cans hanging above suddenly swung wildly against each other with a clang. The girl's face went pale in sudden understanding. The sharp crack of gunfire echoed outside in the night.

Rock nodded. He stood up. "I told you they were coming. The Cleaner is here."

--

"Hey, Fred-Fred, how do ya think I should start choppin' up those kids?"

The question was met with no response. Sawyer stared intently ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel of the U.G. Pork van tightly.

"Should I skin 'em all first, or just dismember?" Gunny Tom eyed his bowie knife with a lazy smile as he casually sat in the passenger's seat. When he saw his cousin's shoulders tighten in reaction, he laughed boisterously. Thoroughly agitated and repulsed at what she was hearing, Sawyer's eyes narrowed and she lowered her head.

A whimper came from beside her. A trembling Niken was sitting in between Gunny Tom and Sawyer. Sawyer didn't care. That sniveling girl had betrayed her own. She earned no sympathy.

The Cleaner sighed and tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her eyes transfixed on the street, now entering the warehouse complex. She still hadn't thought of a way out of this wretched hunt. Sawyer was horribly stressed, racked with anxiety, and she could find no source of relief. She was quickly approaching her breaking point.

Something caught Sawyer's attention. In the corner of the wing mirror, she spotted a vehicle that was a considerable distance away from the U.G. Pork van, appearing to be the size of a fly in the mirror. The lights were off, but the vehicle was still moving, following them. She vaguely recognized the vehicle from the usual rounds she made in the city, a car that was used by Lee Kwan's Red Poles.

The Cleaner cocked her lips to the side, annoyed. Sawyer was not at all fond when she had cleaned up some bodies they left in an alleyway several weeks ago. The so-called "professional" Red Poles were sloppy executioners. Morons, the whole lot of them.

Gunny Tom was hired by Lee Kwan, wasn't he? Why hadn't the Red Poles been mentioned previously, and why were they being followed? Sawyer cocked her eyebrow with a questioning glance, but said nothing, making sure to keep the Red Poles in mind. They raised too much suspicion.

"Y-you stop very soon, here," said Niken meekly, gesturing to an empty lot, "Can't get to warehouse with car. Only way to get there is on foot."

Sawyer followed the girl's directions and made a sharp turn into the lot, the loud rumbling of the van dying as she came to a stop and took the key out of the ignition.

Gunny Tom grabbed the protesting Niken by the hair and quickly exited the van while Sawyer took her time to grab her chainsaw that she had placed in the small area behind the driver's seat.

"Get the fuck out here, Fred-Fred," barked Gunny Tom. His impatience was evident. Sawyer lingered in the van for a couple of more seconds before she stepped out with the chainsaw in hand.

Niken shivered as she began to lead them towards the dark shadow of the warehouse, the crumbling sidewalk lit by an occasional overhead lamp. The tip of the sawed-off shotgun barrel dug into the small of her back. Her fear increased as she felt the demon man stop in his tracks.

"The hell is this?" Gunny Tom's foot was resting right on top of a thin string. Niken turned around and gasped. She had forgotten about the tripwires that set off the primitive alarms in the warehouse. Sawyer's face contorted in irritation. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had just happened.

It took Gunny Tom a good second or so to comprehend what he had done.

"You little shit!" he cursed, "You knew that wire was there!" Niken began to cry again.

"No! I didn't! I–!"

"Like hell you didn't! You stupid little fucker, I oughta–!!"

"**Quiet,**" Sawyer said suddenly as she looked over her shoulder.

"What?" said Gunny Tom. The word was not meant as a genuine question. His tone seemed to implicate that he was more surprised that Sawyer had summoned the guts to give him a command.

"**We're being followed... or did you know about this, Gunnar?**" With a wary, inquiring expression, Sawyer gestured at the four shadowed figures back in the parking lot. Dumbfounded, Gunny Tom gawked.

"Who the hell are they?"

"**I see... So you didn't know...**" Sawyer had wondered what use Lee Kwan truly had for her idiotic cousin, but now it was quite clear that the Triad boss just wanted to have someone... expendable who would be stupid enough to do his dirty work. The Cleaner curled her lip expectantly. Of course Gunny Tom hadn't known, the jackass.

"Who the hell are they, Fred-Fred?" Gunny Tom asked more urgently, his eye twitching.

"**Red Poles... Members of the Wo Triad... Lee Kwan's men... They ****remove**** anything that... is seen as a problem... you're the fall guy...**" Just like the trip wire, it took Gunny Tom several seconds to understand what his cousin was talking about.

"Shit! _Shit_! _SHIT_!!" He shot blindly once at the distant figures before floundering out of the lights,

Sawyer and Niken followed. Sounds of returning gunfire from the Red Poles filled the air as the three of them ducked to avoid the bullets snapping overhead.

Niken quivered at the sudden actions while Gunny Tom uttered a long and vulgar string of profanities under his breath. Sawyer stood between the two of them, looking down at Niken's shaking form. The Cleaner was growing more and more anxious by the second, a painful tenseness in her muscles as she glared. She was tired and, more importantly, very, very angry.

She had been dragged into this accursed hunt against her will, forced to endure all this bullshit, and now she was hiding with her idiotic cousin and a treacherous child from a group of incompetent gangsters? What had Roanapur's most notorious cleaner become? It was all a cruel joke. She could no longer stand in the dark like this, she had reached her breaking point. In one quick movement, Sawyer grabbed Niken by the back of the shirt and propelled the startled girl into the view of the Red Pole Squad. The girl could serve as a decoy.

Niken shrieked as they opened fire. Luckily for her, the men were terrible shots and she managed to scramble towards the warehouse, her shadow dancing across it's side as she sped to safety. The gunfire died down. Gunny Tom was outraged. Not only had Sawyer given away their guide, but she also gave away where they were.

"Fred-Fred, YOU STUPID CUNT!!" He gripped the front of the collar of Sawyer's shirt and spun her around so that she was facing him. It was dark, but he could still make out a faint outline of Sawyer's face and... her eyes. They were different somehow. A twang of fear was still present, but its overall presence had faded immensely. Sawyer's eyes had turned feral, chilling.

Gunny Tom growled. Fuck family and the job, he thought. Hell, he was supposed to kill her in the first place. These street kids had stolen a 100K? Well, that was a hell of a lot more money than he had been offered by Lee Kwan. Sawyer had served her purpose in this hunt. As Gunny Tom remembered the Red Poles, he smiled. He had a final use for his little cousin.

With a harsh shove, Gunny Tom forced Sawyer into the light into the Red Pole Squad's view.

"Have fun with yer new playmates, Fred-Fred!" he shouted. He could go off and find the children on his own while Sawyer kept these Red Poles distracted. She'd run around in the lights like a confused bug 'til they pinned her down and squashed her good. Gunny Tom cackled as he faded back into the shadows. What a quaint idea!

Gunfire cracked as Sawyer recovered her balance. The Cleaner instinctively lifted up the chainsaw to defend herself from any oncoming bullets. As a couple of bullets were deflected by the guide bar and many more whizzed past her, Sawyer sprinted across the lot and into a shaded area where she found herself blocked by a chain link fence. On the other side were parked rows of heavy industrial equipment.

The Cleaner noticed that there was a weak section that was badly rusted. Quickly, Sawyer yanked the ripcord and used the chainsaw to slash through the thin, rusted metal, creating a shower of sparks in the process. Before the Red Poles could aim and fire, Sawyer had already slipped through the opening in the fence.

Sawyer passed by the bulldozers, loaders and backhoes in the equipment lot, and headed straight for the Hell Garden beyond. Sawyer knew there was a high chance that the Red Poles were going to follow her, and she needed a suitable environment for defense and combat.

She knew what the statuary held, aware of the morbid figures that inhabited it. It was the perfect setting. She would blend right in.

Sawyer entered the Hell Garden and weaved into the lurid display. Once deep into the statuary, the tension slowly began to flow out of her body. Confident that she was well enough ahead of the Red Poles, Sawyer stopped by the most gruesome figures in the Hell Garden. In the center was an intimidating and towering spirit by the name of _Phya Yom, _the death king, holding what looked like a chipped offering plate low to the ground, large enough to hold half of a grown man's body. Sawyer silently read the sign beside the figure.

"_If you meet the Devil in this life, don't postpone merit-making which will help you to defeat him in the next life." _

Sawyer's eyes lit up in amusement. What a lovely concept. As she leisurely strode by the garish statue, the ghost woman smiled wickedly.

"**Be patient, death king... I shall deliver my offering... in due time.**"

--

Revy squatted down and poked at the eyeball with a gun barrel.

Revy crinkled her nose a little at the stink of urine and feces and raw meat. She had seen the aftermath of gang tortures and executions before, but this was on a different level. Dr. Chiet, or the remains thereof, had been torn apart with obscene purpose.

"Heh," she spun on her heel and dashed up the basement stairs. A haze of smoke lingered in the bungalow and she drew in a breath, nostrils flared. The distinctive smell of exhaust belonged to Sawyer's chainsaw. She knew it well after working with the woman against the FARC.

Revy tried to picture what had happened and failed. Sawyer's very purpose in Roanapur was to clean up after such events. Sawyer wasn't known to get personal with a knife. A string of curses flowed through Revy's head.

She had to move fast. Rock's time was running out. What a screwup. She'd totally fucked up.

--

The four Red Poles decided to go back to the car and give themselves a combative upgrade and advantage. Their chosen prey had proven to be more difficult to kill than expected. Their technology was impressive; night vision goggles, headsets, newly equipped targeting lasers on the guns to avoid any sloppy long-distance shooting like the previous encounter, almost everything they would need to pursue the Ghost Woman. _Almost_.

Advanced technology did them no good if there was nobody to hunt it with. The Red Poles Squad's enthusiasm was dashed as they scoured every inch of the equipment lot, only to find that there was no trace of the Cleaner among the heavy machinery. It soon became evident that she had given them the slip or was hiding in the Hell Garden.

"You're joking, right?" one of the Poles asked in Cantonese, lifting his night vision goggles up onto his forehead nervously. There was no way their superior was being serious. It had to be a joke, a cruel, twisted joke.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" The brute leader added emphasis to his words by pointing to his agitated snarl. The other Red Poles slumped with uneasy expressions as they looked at the entrance of the Hell Garden. They were greeted by threatening figures, hellish guardians posed in a manner that seemed to challenge any passersby to venture into their domain, the moonlight seeming to make their faded smiles and cold eyes come to life. It was unsettling.

"It will be easier for us to find the Cleaner and kill her if we split up. We'll keep in contact with the headsets," the brute stated. "Don't fuck this up. Boss Lee Kwan has wanted that Cleaner dead for a long time, and that one-eyed idiot couldn't even do the job right. We need to finish this." The men under his command looked uneasy. Split up? So all of them were going into that weird place separately?

"___Yat-zeu_, stop being a bunch of pussies!" their leader barked, "Look at it! It's just a dump full of oversized trinkets. There are no spirits in that place, only statues and the Cleaner. We have guns and goggles, all she has is her own eyes and a chainsaw. There's nothing to be afraid of in there. Now _move_!"

The three underlings followed their superior into the Hell Garden, placing their night vision goggles back over their eyes. He was right. It was just an abandoned lot with statues, and the Cleaner was only armed with a chainsaw. There was nothing to be scared of.

But as they passed the entrance and split up, the eyes of the snarling demons and malevolent spirits almost seemed to follow them, as though watching their every move. A chill went up their spines.

--

The Hell Garden was composed of different sections dedicated to specific methods of torture and punishment. The vile displays were not pleasant by any means. The setting was not only filled with life-sized figures of vengeful and sadistic spirits, but also presented models of sinful mortals suffering at their hands.

One Red Pole cautiously tread in the west wing of the Hell Garden, a collection of devious entities gleefully gouging the eyes out of screaming mortals, gathering around a cast iron pot as their victims boiled alive, watching wailing sinners being devoured by maggots and having their entrails ripped out by birds. The feeble gangster resisted the urge to regurgitate.

He made quick jerking movements with his head, growing paranoid as his time in the Hell Garden grew. The night vision goggles with their green tint only made the details of the horrid statues more profound. He had yet to spot the Cleaner, the pale ghost woman.

Unbeknownst to the Red Pole, a pair of dark blue eyes were laid upon him, hiding alongside the mischievous spirits. The sapphire eyes narrowed before their owner slipped away.

The gangster jumped slightly, thinking he saw something move out of the corner of the night vision goggles. He slowly, cautiously stepped over to where he thought the movement had come from. Sweat broke out on his forehead, his heart beating at a faster rate and breathing becoming jagged and coarse, nerves on edge and eyes wide as he clutched his gun tightly, the laser pointed straight ahead. He took several shaking steps and warily approached a corner. Summoning all of his strength, he quickly turned the corner and found himself staring into a pale white face and dark, insidious eyes.

He released an emasculated scream and aimed the laser at the forehead, a second away from pulling the trigger, but he stopped as he got a closer look at what was staring at him.

"___Wan jun_," he chuckled nervously, placing his hand on his head. It was just a statue, a faded feminine spirit covered with flaking paint. He closed his eyes, his adrenaline rush ebbing away as he smiled wearily. He had almost wasted a bullet on a statue. How stupid... Suddenly, he heard a mechanical cough and roar directly behind him. The man turned his head.

He didn't even have time to scream when the ghost woman sunk the spinning carbide teeth into his throat.

--

"Did you hear that?" asked one of the Red Poles, using his headset to communicate with his superior.

"_What?"_

"I thought I heard something... buzzing. I'm not sure where it's coming from..."

"_I didn't hear anything. Where are you?"_

"I think I'm..." the underling looked around, trying to identify a general location, "The north wing...? Perhaps, this place is bigger than I thought. I'm not really sure."

"___That's your problem,__"_ came the brute's voice on the other end, ___"If you're so damned concerned about the buzzing, just go in the direction you think it came from. If you're lucky, you'll run into the Cleaner."_ The underling released the button and cut off contact.

He saw no need to respond. He did his best to observe his surroundings without paying too much attention or mind to the horrific details of the statues around him. The section he was currently walking through seemed to favor scenes of demons ripping the tongues out of their victims' throats and roasting their prisoners over a blazing fire.

He shook his head and continued forward. He was used to hunting in slums and alleyways, streets and shady buildings. But this was a confusing labyrinth of painted devils and faded icons. It was a setting completely foreign to him. The cynical part of his mind continued to reason and remind him that they were only statues, but the images of torture seemed to almost come to life in the moonlight. It was a difficult feeling to shake.

He walked haphazardly in the Hell Garden, continuously searching every possible angle and direction in hopes that he would find the Cleaner's hiding place, but the myriad of grotesque models made it a daunting task to focus. He snapped his head when he heard a shuffle to the right. The man walked over and peered around one of the statues, but there was no one there. Disappointed, he took a step back, only the bump into someone... or something.

Upon contact, the Red Pole jumped back and whirled around, cocking his gun. He would have pulled the trigger if he hadn't realized that the person right across from him was a second Red Pole underling.

"Shit, Di! Don't fucking scare me like that! For a moment there, I thought you were the chainsaw girl. And stop aiming your gun at me," said the second Red Pole. Di did as requested, but not without his own retort.

"Don't give me a dirty look, Yu. You should have announced yourself before you bumped into me. I could have killed you."

"_I _bumped into _you_? More like the other way around." There was a pause between the two of them as they composed themselves.

"So, I guess you still haven't found her either," said Yu. Di shook his head.

"This is bullshit," rambled Yu, "All because that one-eyed ___ma-lut lo_ couldn't kill her himself. Lazy bastard. I didn't join the Wo Triad so I could play hide-and-go-seek with a ghost woman."

"Don't use that term," said Di. Yu cocked his head to the side.

"What term?"

"'Ghost woman,' don't use those words. They're not appropriate." Yu wondered what his co-worker meant by that before a light bulb went off in his head.

"Oh, ___chiu_, you've got to be kidding," Yu mocked, "You're one of those superstitious types? You believe in those stories about the ghost woman? That she'll rip out your soul?"

"No, that is not my concern," answered Di honestly, "Ghosts and demons, things like that are not our priority. Terms like 'ghost woman' are distracting. We don't need such things on our minds. We are here specifically to hunt the Cleaner, a woman with a chainsaw, nothing more. I hate dwelling for too long on jobs. I just want to kill her and get out of here." The way the man rushed the final words earned a wide grin from Yu.

"You're scared shitless of this place, aren't you?!" he shouted. Di cringed, more at Yu's tone of voice rather than an implication of superstitious fear.

"Be quiet. You're going to give away our position!"

"To who, the _ghost woman_? We've been searching this hell hole high and low and she still hasn't turned up. She's long gone, probably ran away down the docks and left us scrambling here. Or maybe... she crossed over to the other realm." The second Red Pole waved his arms around in a grand gesture. "Being around all these statues made her homesick."

"You fool, be quiet! She's going to hear you!"

"What do we care? She's just a woman with a chainsaw, remember? What chance does she stand against a gun?" Yu lifted up his firearm and leaned against an image of a man having his torso severed. "Unless she really is a ghost! What if she were to cross the threshold of the underworld and appear out of thin air to kill us! Oh, what trouble we would be in then!"

As Di continued to chastise his obnoxious co-worker and make him aware of the severe, and quite honestly stupid, lack of tact and discipline he was displaying, they failed to realize a petite figure stalking around them, hiding in plain view behind the statues throughout. Even the night vision goggles didn't help them realize her unorthodox mode of camouflage.

"You fool! Chainsaw or not, it is not in our best interest to make her aware of our presence. She is known as Roanapur's best cleaner for a reason. We should not take her lightly."

"Nice cover," Yu scoffed, not convinced at the other Red Pole's attempt to show him that he wasn't concerned about paranormal topics. Yu threw his hands up in the air. "O, great ghost woman! Grace us with your presence so that we may witness the awesome power of your mighty chainsaw!"

"That's enough, Yu! Stop it!" Refusing to listen to the sound advice, Yu hopped away from Di to move in between a scene depicting sinners being impaled on spears and tridents.

"Come to us, ghost woman!" Yu announced, never once dropping character, certain that the Cleaner was no where within the vicinity, "Cross the veil that separates our worlds and appear from the shado –!!"

Yu never completed his performance. The chainsaw howled.

Whirring mechanical teeth on a long metallic bar burst through Yu's stomach, blood spraying outwards as he cried out in agony and dropped his gun to the ground. The man's incessant rambling had made it more than simple for Sawyer to sneak up on him. She sneered. What a fool.

Di lurched back in shock as his face was adorned with speckles of Yu's blood. The small laser point moved wildly about, trying to find a valid opening where he could shoot the Cleaner, but she wasn't going to give him the chance. Sawyer shifted her weight and moved Yu forward as the teeth of the chainsaw were still spinning, threatening to cut Di while she used the man she had impaled as a shield. On reflex, Di backed away and shot wildly, sloppily, emptying the magazine into the still jerking, but quite dead Yu while Sawyer remained unharmed.

Di's gun gave several empty clicks and he tossed it aside. Seeing this from underneath Yu's limp arm, Sawyer slipped the chainsaw out of the man's gut and let the bullet-ridden corpse collapse in a heap on the ground. Di made a motion to reach for the secondary firearm he kept hidden around his waist, pulling it out, but the Cleaner was not going to allow him to fire it. In one swift movement, she sawed off his entire forearm before he could even put his finger on the trigger. Di screamed as he held the end of the bleeding stump with his other hand.

"___Chiu, baht poh__!_" Di grit his teeth and glared at Sawyer, but his expression became void of anger and filled with dread when he gazed at her face. With a whimper, Di stumbled out of the ghost woman's range, avoiding another bite from the whirring carbide blades.

Sawyer calmly watched the man run away from her in attempt to find a suitable hiding place. She casually kicked the dismembered forearm behind her to join Yu's corpse. She had already beheaded one Red Pole and gutted another. Two down, two to go.

--

Sweating and panting heavily, sharp pains emitting from the stump of his arm and the blood loss taking its toll, Di was in shock. He stumbled and tripped, weakly dragging himself with his only hand and crawling over behind a row of demonic icons, hoping that the Cleaner had lost track of him.

He was trembling violently, the image of the ghost woman's eyes etched into his mind. The shock of witnessing the bloodstains on her clothing and face and the thick streaks of blood on her chainsaw had paled in comparison to the terror he felt when he had looked into her eyes. There was a chilling restlessness within them, a cold aura radiating from the dark orbs. There was something unearthly about that aura, something spectral. It was beyond his comprehension. He hoped he would never have to see those eyes again.

"Fengdu, are you there?" Di whispered, fumbling with the headset as he tried to contact another member. There was no response. "F-Fengdu?"

Nothing. Remembering the faint buzzing sound he had heard before he bumped into Yu, Di cursed. Fengdu had been the first to die. With that knowledge in mind, there was only one other person left to contact.

--

"___Z-Zugen,__"_ came a meek voice on the Red Pole leader's headset. The brute rolled his eyes.

"What is it, Di?"

"_I need help. The ghost woman... the Cleaner, she's killed Yu and Fengdu, and sh-she... cut off one my arms... I'm bleeding..."_

"So you found the Cleaner. Did you manage to kill her?" Zugen asked dryly. The man could have cared less about his subordinates' deaths or Di's injury. So long as the ghost woman was dead, he would be content. The answer he received did not please him in the slightest.

"_No... She's still alive..."_

"You all had night vision goggles and laser sighting and you still couldn't kill her?!"

"___It's not that simple!"_ Di wailed on the other end, ___"Even with the night vision, we couldn't spot her. She just appeared out of nowhere."_

"People don't just 'appear out of nowhere'. You–"

"___She's not human!"_The quiver in Di's voice was a certain sign that the man was beginning to cry. Zugen was disgusted at his subordinate's weakness, but was genuinely curious by what Di had meant by the statement.

"Not human?"

"_She's a _gui_, a goddamned _gui_!" _

"... A _gui_?" Zugen asked, annoyed. "Damn it, Di, what the hell did you smoke before we went out on this job?"

"___I'm not hallucinating! That woman, I saw her eyes. Those eyes don't belong to a human, but... they're not suited for a demon, either. She's a vengeful ghost, a wandering spirit. I never believed such things truly existed, but... She's searching the Hell Garden. She wants something, __needs____ something. She won't stop looking for it until she sends us all to the underworld. She won't be satisfied until she's drenched in our blood."_ Zugen spat at the words. Di was probably delusional, but the brute could pick up on the urgency in his voice.

"Fine, I'll go along with your little ghost story," said the brute leader, "Just tell me where you are. Perhaps I can find the '_gui_' you speak so much about on my way there." The final words were the only reason he wanted to bother with looking for his final subordinate.

"___I'm... I'm resting by a line of statues... Demons are hanging people with hooks... Come quickly... The ghost woman... I don't think sh-__aaaauuugh____!!"_ The wailing gurgle was quickly cut off by a clamorous buzz followed by the static of Di's headset. People being pierced with hooks? Zugen vaguely remembered passing by that area a while ago. Well, at least now he knew where the chainsaw woman was.

Unfazed by the deaths of the other Red Poles, the brute leader's teeth twisted into smirk. Those three only died because of their own incompetence. This Hell Garden, all this talk about the chainsaw woman being a _gui..._ nonsense! He wouldn't be distracted by such ridiculous things.

The dumb bastard had no idea what awaited him.

--

Standing above the mangled corpse of the Red Pole, Di, Sawyer allowed the roar of her chainsaw to settle down to a soft purr. Three down, one to go. She surveyed her surroundings. The area had served her well, a perfect environment for her method of hunting. All she would have to do now is simply stay still by a grim statue, wait for the final Red Pole to arrive and cut him the moment he came within striking distance.

... But that wouldn't be very entertaining for her. There was only one Red Pole left to deal with. Why waste the opportunity of a performance worthy of the Grand Guignol?

Tearing a large piece off of the red stained shirt of the Red Pole, Sawyer lifted his dismembered head and allowed the blood to flow from the neck onto the makeshift rag, soaking it further. Soon, the the cloth was drenched to the point of dripping with blood, and Sawyer was satisfied. This would be enough. She wasn't going to dare to leave her fingerprints on the scenery, but she knew she would have to leave directions for her final victim if she wanted him to find the stage.

Twisting the bloodied cloth to a point and adorning the statues with letters, Sawyer's lips formed a brooding smile.

The real fun was about to begin.

--

Zugen stormed into the area confidently, not paying any mind to the hideous images he passed. He came upon a statue of a devilish figure inserting a large hook through the bottom of a man's mouth and knew he was close.

"Miss Cleaner," Zugen drawled in English, "Why do you hide? There's no use to stall. You're going to die eventually. How about you come out now? I promise that if you don't give me trouble, I'll make it quick. You won't feel a thing. It won't hur–" He stopped in his tracks as he came upon a large puddle of blood, a large streak coming from it, as if something had been dragged. Zugen followed the relatively short trail into another area of the Hell Garden and soon saw that Di had been decapitated, his head resting in the cupped hands of a smiling devil. In a nearby scene, Di's body, or what was left of it, was scattered about in a strategic fashion to accommodate the image of cruel spirits dismembering with crude saws and sharp blades. Zugen's face contorted.

There was a tiny "splish" sound as he stepped back. He looked down and saw that he was standing on top of a dark "**X**" with the words "**START HERE**" underneath. Slightly above the "**X**" was an arrow pointing upwards. The night vision goggles coated everything in a shade of green, but the brute Red Pole had a damn good guess that the direction was hastily painted in blood, most likely with some sort of cloth from the looks of the streaks.

Zugen smirked. Oh, the chainsaw woman wanted to lead him into a trap? He wasn't stupid. He turned to his left to pursue his own path, but stopped when he saw more words, this time painted on the chest of one of the demons.

"**WRONG WAY, IMBECILE.**" The Red Pole grunted at the insult. He turned around to head in the opposite direction, but there was another message painted along an outstretched arm of a crying woman having her legs sawn off.

"**WHAT'S WRONG? CAN'T READ?**" Zugen hissed. So, that was her game. Twisted bitch.

"Alright, I'll play along," he muttered. Fine, he'll follow the directions if that's what she wants. She's setting herself up for her own demise by putting up these directions, he thought. These crude displays and messages she set up were just for show. That chainsaw wielding psycho couldn't have been as intimidating as she was in the stories he had heard amongst the citizens of this damned city. It was all just bullshit. He could defeat her...

--

Sawyer had marked a path throughout the entire statuary and was in the center ring once more, the most gruesome area of the Hell Garden, looking for a suitable spot to place her final message. The cloth was starting to get dry, and she knew it would only be a matter of time before the last Red Pole arrived. She needed to find the perfect spot for the message, the piece that would lead to the grand finale of her performance. She cocked an eyebrow in amusement at the way she was thinking. It seemed Rotton had rubbed off a little on her.

It was then that she spotted it, an arching sign overhead, the original letters faded away to nothing, only leaving a thin coat of chipping white paint. Perfect. Climbing on top of one of the statues to reach the sign, Sawyer wrote a line from The Inferno. She smiled sardonically. A quote from Dante in the center of a Buddhist statuary, how beautifully ironic.

--

"___Lay gaw say gwai, baht poh!_" the brute cursed. That damned woman had led him through the entire garden, a long, drawn out journey, sarcastic comments and insults accompanied with an occasional mocking smiley face whenever he had decided to stray from her original path.

"**HOW TO KEEP AN IDIOT ENTERTAINED: LOOK RIGHT, LOOK LEFT.**"

"**LOOK UP, LOOK DOWN. MORON.**"

"**THERE IS NO PUNCHLINE. I JUST PUT THIS HERE TO ANNOY YOU.**"

The path he was meant to follow was no better. Already, he had come across the gutted body of Yu among a display of people being impaled while Fengdu's decapitated head was placed on a platter surrounded by starving, emaciated animals. The sweat on his forehead and the heat emitted from his face were fogging up the night vision goggles, hindering his sight more than helping it. It was blinding him, irritating his eyes, and the straps were beginning to tighten around the veins that were popping out along his head.

He scratched roughly at the sides of the goggles for relief, but it only served to agitate him further. No longer able to tolerate the pain, he ripped the goggles off of his head and angrily tossed them aside in a random direction.

There was not a star in sight and the moon was hidden behind dark clouds, the statuary draped in a dull shades of black and blue, only the outlines of the horrific statues being visible to the Red Pole, making the entire setting rather difficult to see clearly. He really shouldn't have thrown away the goggles. He took out a backup flashlight and looked around to see if he could locate them. However, Zugen's attention was directed elsewhere when he saw a crimson arrow on the ground with the words "**THE END IS NEAR**" written above.

He ground his teeth madly. He was close, he was close, he was going to kill the damned _gui_.

He shook his head. No, no, not _gui_. She wasn't a ghost, just a woman...

The Red Pole followed in the direction that was given and traveled deeper into the Hell Garden, coming upon an arching sign above. Unable to read the words in the dark, he directed his flashlight towards the sign.

"**VEXILLA REGIS PRODEUNT INFERNI**"

The brutish Red Pole scoffed. The latin words didn't mean anything to him.

Stepping into the area, gun cocked, the laser point joined the flashlight as he searched around. He had to resist the urge to twitch as he shed light on the lurid statues.

They were by far the most grotesque and unnerving than all of the other figures in the Garden. People being ground into powder, pounded and beaten with rocks until their bodies turned to a bloody jelly, sinners torn apart and skinned alive, sadistic spirits pouring melted iron down their throats, bodies covered in dotted black guidelines and dismembered by fiery saws. The centerpiece of this horrid ring was a towering death spirit holding an offering plate. Zugen read the sign beside the spirit, something about donations and merit-making...

"******So you've made it... to the Ninth Circle...****"** came an augmented, ghastly voice. The Red Pole snapped his head and stepped back into the center of the area, looking around wildly. Where had that voice come from?

"******The worst and most vile sinners... are punished in this chamber...**"

"Where the hell are you?" Zugen pointed his gun to his left, beginning to shake. That voice... it wasn't natural...

"******Isn't this... such a lovely place?**"

"Ghost woman... N-no, _Cleaner_, get out here."

"******Now, what fun... would that be? I'd rather... see my prey struggle... before I strike.**"

"Prey?" Zugen hissed, implicating that he thought of the word as the highest insult anyone could have said in his presence. He continued to look around, searching for the being who was responsible for the monotonous tone. He thought he saw a shadow move to his left and shot at it. He missed.

"******That gun... won't do you any good...**" An eerie chuckle filled the air.

"___Siu meh ah, baht poh__?!_" Zugen shouted, foaming at the mouth. "Show yourself, you whore!"

"******How rude...**" the ghost woman commented, "******That's no way... to talk to a spirit****.**" More ghoulish laughter followed, angering Zugen further. The combination of witnessing the horrendous statues, the ghost woman's mocking laughter, and his own increasing paranoia pushed the Red Pole over the edge.

"Enough about spirits!" he shouted, "Demons, _gui_, ghost woman, I believe in no such thing! Now come out, so I can kill you! ___Say, baht poh_!" In a drastic fit of rage, the Red Pole shot blindly, wildly around him, spinning in circles, bullets piercing and even shattering some of the devious icons, confident that at least one stray bullet would strike the accursed ghost woman. There was a tense silence in the Hell Garden when the Red Pole had run out of ammunition, lowering the gun to his side and heaving with a tired smile. He did it. He killed her. He finally killed the ghost woman.

Suddenly, as if by some unearthly will, a howling wind began to blow, and dark clouds in the blood red evening sky parted away from the moon, casting an eerie luminescent glow upon the Hell Garden. A mechanical purr reached his ears.

"******You missed.**"

With a sharp intake of breath, the brutish Red Pole turned around and looked up. Zugen's jaw hung agape and he dropped his gun, his hands trembling as the rest of his body froze.

No, he had shot in every direction... It was impossible...

Perched atop the head of the death spirit with the offering plate was the ghost woman, her petite figure outlined by the transcendent glow of the moon, a low rumble coming from the engine of her chainsaw as her cruel, sordid smile pierced through the dark.

"******Boo!**" She gracefully leaped off of the statue with her chainsaw overhead, the carbide teeth hissing in anticipation as the engine roared, the bloodstained bar giving off a red glint as it was struck by the moonlight. The Red Pole didn't get a chance to react as the ghost woman landed and brought the spinning blades down into the crook of his neck, gradually eating it's way in a downward, slightly diagonal direction, sawing off the man's left arm. The Red Pole was not given the opportunity to complete his scream as the ghost woman repeated the act with his right arm.

The upper half of his body being nothing more than a torso and a head, Zugen released a cross between a gurgle and a cry as he stumbled about. He felt a sharp pain in his gut as the ghost woman kicked him with the thick sole of her boot, knocking him back on top of the offering plate held by the death king, _Phya Yom._ The brute hadn't even fully opened his eyes when hungry metallic teeth bit into the top of his scalp.

The savage bellows of the chainsaw drowned out the Red Pole's cries, the blades slowly making it's way down the man's head. Blood red lips were twisted in a cruel grin as dark sapphire eyes beamed with tainted mirth, large splatters of blood joining dried red speckles from the ghost woman's previous endeavors, staining a delicate, pale white face and soaking her dark gothic attire, the white cross on her chest turning a brilliant shade of crimson.

A gash perfectly divided the Red Pole's face, the chainsaw now cutting into the flesh of his neck and moving further down to devour the center of his torso and below the waist. By the time the grim female was done, the brute man was split into two symmetrical pieces, not counting his dismembered arms.

The ghost woman took a moment to step back and observe her work. Blood literally poured out of the offering plate and spilled onto the ground below. This entire damned night, she had been tormented by her atrocious past, feeling like a weakling under the grip of that revolting demon Gunny Tom, an unrelenting tension and agony assaulting her senses. It was something that wouldn't let her go, something that trapped her, something that she wished, _desired_ to be released from, searching for a way out. Once she had killed all of the Red Poles, once she had cut them to pieces, once she had been drenched in the their blood, those miserable feelings had faded. She felt at ease, relieved, _revived_.

The transcendent glow of the moon created a strange affect;_ Phya Yom's_ normally crude, wrathful, calculating face appeared to be satisfied with the ghost woman's sanguine offering. As the ghastly female turned away to exit the Hell Garden, she did not wear a cruel grin, but a mischievous smile, a light bounce in her step as she walked away with the chainsaw in hand. The bounce quickly began to turn into a cheerful skip, and the skip soon turned into an ethereal waltz.

The lurid spirits of the Hell Garden seemed to smile as the bloody ghost woman spun about with her chainsaw held high in the moonlight. She tossed her head back and uttered a pent up soundless scream, only to stop in mid-pirouette as an unwelcome arrival suddenly detached itself from the cover of the surrounding statues.

"Boo right back at ya', dumbass!" said Revy with a demented giggle. She raised the gun.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Killdozer Slaughterhouse**

"We're all gonna die!" shrieked the boy called Mikey. He ran across the open floor of the warehouse headed towards the barricaded entrance. None of the children sprawled on the floor of the building moved or said anything, watching in tense expectation. Only Rock's voice was raised in lone protest. Mikey turned and twisted through the stacked barrels and disappeared.

The gunfire outside stopped. Rock rose cautiously to his feet and looked around. No one dared to move, the only sound was their collective breathing. Gaavrila looked up at him, the face pale and fearful. She had flung herself out of the wheelchair at the first shot.

"What do we do now?" – She asked in a voice high and cracked.

Rock winced at the plea and didn't reply. He helped the crippled girl back into the chair as he thought swiftly. Taking the children out of the city was one thing, making them run the gauntlet of a firefight was another matter entirely. What had seemed like a simple endeavor a couple of hours ago had snowballed into the usual _yabai_.

The storage barrels blocking the front entrance fell with a clatter. Mikey stumbled back in, clutching his throat. Swaying for far too long before the horrified watchers, he let his hands drop and rolled his head back. Blood sprayed and he toppled limply onto the overturned barrels, the boy's face impacting the concrete with an audible thud.

Gunny Tom made a theatrical entrance, cleaning the large knife on the side of his shirt with wide swipes. He skipped over the twitching body.

"Okay, you little shitters," he crowed, a wild gleam in his solitary eye. "Where's the goddamn money?"

--

Chaos: the children broke in a stampeding, screaming frenzy away from the febrile figure capering at the front. Rock caught only small fragmented glimpses as he flung himself in front of the helpless Gaavrila.

A girl, probably only eight years old stepped aside calmly from the mob, and dropped out of view by the wall, swallowed up by the ground. A mixed group of boys and girls tripping and clawing at each other a few feet away as others scrambled over them in a brutal wave of arms and legs. Parang, his face set, stepping forward against the tide, the machete raised.

"Hahahaha," shrieked Gunny Tom, his voice rising above the noise echoing in the building. "That's right! Run you little, oh shi...."

Suddenly he turned and bolted for the entrance, arms and legs pumping in an odd scuttling manner..

Out of the corner of his eyes, Rock saw the twins step around the rusted barrels that enclosed Gaavrila's personal space on the floor of the warehouse. The small boys raised AK-47s, almost as big as themselves and opened fire with a thunderous roar at the fleeing figure.

They emptied their clips at the man who dove out of sight. The twins couldn't control the guns and most of the shots went high, ripping through the walls and ceiling. Gaavrila screamed at them to stop, the tendons in her thin neck straining.

In the silence that followed, Rock motioned urgently for the twins to lower the smoking gun-barrels and quickly made his way towards the body. But once he lifted up Mikey's head, and saw the bloody froth on the lips, he knew the boy was gone.

Rock turned. A large crowd had gathered around Gaavrila as Parang dashed about trying to restore order. The twins were reloading, slapping in new clips with practiced motions.

"We're Children of God," piped the one on the right with a fierce grin, brandishing his weapon. "Johnny and Luther Htoo taught us take no shit from anybody when it comes down!"

Horrified, Rock saw even Gaavrila had pulled a large revolver from the sidebag of her wheelchair and was loading bullets, albeit with a shaking hand.

"This is wrong," he exclaimed. "You can't fight these people Ms. Kazakhova, you have no idea of how depraved, how sick they are. You saw what that man did to that poor boy. It's only a taste of what's going to happen."

"Mr. Okajima," snapped the girl, intent on pushing the bullets into their chambers. "What would you have us do? Wait for the police? They either will not come or do the same once they round us up. We will not not turn the other cheek.. Like the ancient _bogatyr_ of my father's tales I will fight a holy war against these monsters. Either help us or get out of the way!"

"You sound like Ms. Balalaika," said Rock. Gaavrila shook her head.

How would Revy think? Charge the front and kill anything that moved, that wouldn't work at all! Rock spoke.

"I saw a girl, a little girl go that way," he gestured to the right wall, at a spot between the storage racks. "She dropped down a hole and probably went out underneath into the next lot. If the twins and Parang cover, we can all get out. What's over there?"

"A side road and then the Hell Garden," said Gaavrila looking up. Rock looked confused. In all his time in Roanapur, he had never bothered walking further down the port road from the Black Lagoon quarters. A nondescript lineup of metal and wood buildings.

"This used to be a Buddhist temple," explained Gaavrila. "We can slip through the Garden and scatter. We'll go for the sewers... why are you smiling?"

"Sorry," said Rock. "See that one eyed son of a bitch turn and run, it was sort of a relief. Since I've been in Roanapur, I've seen far too many people who just get mad when you shoot at them. But no, you hired us to do a job. We're going for the boat."

Rock took a deep breath and looked at the gathered children. "Everybody! Line up. I'll go first, when I whistle - I want you to pour through that hole and move quickly into this garden. Go to the middle, sit down and don't make a noise till we're all out. Parang, help Gaavrila. You two with the guns, bring up the rear. That man tries to come back in the building before we're out – kill him."

"Yes sir!" shouted the twins.

--

Rock pulled himself out of the muddy crawl-way and crouched by the side of the warehouse. There was enough ambient light from the city lights bouncing down off the clouds for his eyes to quickly adjust. A quick look in either direction and he knelt down and whistled. In a moment the the first group of children came scrabbling through. When there were ten, he motioned for them to go. They quickly slipped across the back road and ducked out of sight through a rip in the fence into darkened grotesqueries of the Garden.

"We're sending Gaavrila through," Parang's voice came from the other side. The mute girl slid through, pulling the Russian through the passage. Rock reached down and helped them out. They sat panting against the wall.

"This is going to work," said Rock cheerfully. The two frightened girls stared back, the whites of their eyes showing through mud encrusted faces. "Everyone's going to get out."

A burst of shots cracked in the air. The moon burst through the clouds. From the Hell Garden arose an unearthly din; the mechanical howl of a chainsaw and the cries of human agony blending together. Rock sprang to his feet in horror.

"Oh God, oh God," choked Gaavrila, her brave front collapsing. "Oh my God, the Ghost Woman is out there. She's killing us... We've sent them to their deaths."

"Back, back in the building," shouted Rock despairingly. He reached out to Gaavrila, but as he did so, something struck him from behind and he toppled over into the hole.

--

"I can't decide if I should snuff ya, or applaud ya," sneered Revy, painting Sawyer's forehead with the red laser sight from the Glock 23 picked up from the severed hand of a Red Pole corpse. She was wearing Zugen's discarded night vision goggles. "Sawyer the Cleaner? Fuckin' a! Sawyer the Butcher is more like it. Honestly, that was a hell of a performance for a scrawny little runt. Glad I ran my ass ragged to see the show. But I'd have to put the gun down to clap, so... where's Rock?."

The chainsaw suddenly expired with a cough and a blast of exhaust. Sawyer frantically pulled on the ripcord to no effect. As if withdrawing the approval of _Phya Yom, _the clouds rolled back over the moon at that moment.

Sawyer whipped the blade up into a defensive position, realized it wouldn't be enough. She had dropped her guard and was utterly exposed without cover. Revy had vanished into the statuary around the decaying figure of the death king.

"Oh, fucking priceless," said Revy sarcastically. Sawyer spun frantically about. She was being circled like a hunted animal. What she had done to the Red Pole Squad was now being done to her. Perspiration dripped from her brow. Only now did she realize how tired she was. She blinked as the laser light flashed across her eyes again followed by Revy's snicker. "You're all outta gas, Saw Girl. Way to be prepared. Tell me where Rock is, or I'm going to be shoving more than a bottle of green chilis up your ass this time."

Sawyer hissed, the sound like a snake, and lowered the chainsaw in despair, the black wave of melancholy welling up inside. It was over. The same useless bitch who had killed her father was now going to kill her.

"**I'm the beaner now... aren't I? That is why... you're not using your own gun?" **Sawyer said hollowly. Just like the wounded FARC, she was going to be executed.

"Yeah, I guess you are." said Revy conversationally from a different location, closer now. "I didn't like your sick little gift in my go-bag, and you chopped up that croaker real good. If you were found riddled with nine millimeter, I might have to explain. I don't see why I should get Shenhua pissed off because of ya."

The shot cracked and Sawyer jumped with a cry of pain as the .40 caliber round tore a gash in the side of her boot.

"Fuck," cursed Revy. "What a piece of crap, sights are off. That was supposed to be your ankle. Well, c'mon then – start talking, it's time to dance the twist. Where the fuck is Rock? I'm not gonna ask ya... no, no no! Don't you fuckin'..."

The chainsaw slipped loose from Sawyer's grasp and fell with a metallic clang. She followed, letting her legs collapse, slumping forward slowly to the ground in a fetal position, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Fucking loser," mumbled Revy.

Sawyer's head was tucked tight against her knees. But her eyes were wide open and intense as the right hand slid to inner left thigh. Let the gun-girl think she was crippled by her phobias! Hidden underneath the short plaid dress above the stockings was a thigh garter with a holstered single shot, 45-70 caliber derringer. She had stolen it from her Uncle Charlie when she fled the farm long ago, but it had been Rotton who insisted she wear the derringer as a backup. Her fingers fumbled for the small grip.

"Don't matter to me if you play possum," Revy had moved right behind her in the darkness. Sawyer blinked, she would never be able to turn in time. The small gun wouldn't come loose from the holster.

Gunfire crackled from the nearby warehouse. The distant sound of sirens, police sirens began to wail in the distance.

"I think I found my man." Revy said. "Too bad, but ya started somethin' with me and I always end it. Goodbye Sawyer."

"**He's here... for you," **blurted out Sawyer.

Revy paused. "What?"

"**He said he was... going to gut your man...and take his eyes.. like with your girl friend" **Sawyer ad-libbed glibly. "**He wants... revenge for when you ran... him through with the pitchfork... back in Texas."**

Sawyer turned her head slowly, trying to get a glimpse of the shadowy figure standing over her. The derringer was finally free. But she had to be sure, there was only one shot.

"**I didn't kill the doctor... He ..." **

"Oi, don't care," said Revy coldly, speaking almost in her ear. "What's your first name, you gory little bitch?"

"**Frederica... Frederica Sawyer... you mean... you never put two... and two together? Are you that... stupid? URCK!"**

Sawyer's small mouth twisted into a grimace of pain as Revy grabbed a handful of thick hair, jerking the smaller woman up with a heave. Revy had the palm of her other hand in the small of Sawyer's back and drove the Cleaner forward like a rag doll. Sawyer stumbled off balance, as Revy propelled her face-first into one of the horrid figures with a crash. The derringer flew out of her hand.

The dark visage of the demonic statue appeared to laugh as the stunned Sawyer slid to the ground, legs splayed awkwardly in either direction. She felt blood gush from her nose and pour across her open lips. Oddly enough, Sawyer wasn't interested anymore. Best to let the blackness within eat her whole before the pain became too much, like before when her throat was cut... As the Thai would say, _mai pen rai. _Never mind

"Now it's personal," said Revy, with a tone that hinted at sadism from a great distance away.

--

Whatever was on top of Rock struck and clawed viciously. He was eating mud and couldn't breathe. Rock twisted and clubbed viciously. He felt the attacker squeal and try to pull away. He swung again and heard a dull thud. The assailant went limp and he pushed the body to one side.

"What's going on?" shouted someone right by his head, Rock winced. A flashlight flickered on in the depths of the tunnel, Parang had crawled halfway through and could go no further with Rock and the attacker blocking the way. Looking up he could see the heads of Gaavrila and Rohingya outlined against the dim glow of the night sky.

"Go back," sputtered Rock. The light flashed over. For a moment Rock was afraid he had knocked Revy out, but the slack face was too young. "Drag this one over me, I have to get the girls back in. We can't go this way."

"Niken," grumbled Parang.

--

"Fred-Fred, I'm going to brain you with your own chainsaw," panted Revy. "I wouldn't even waste a bullet on your useless hide. Don't move. I'll be right back."

"**What... about... your man?"** gurgled Sawyer. She spit up blood. Revy kicked her again.

"Good point, let's make this quick." Revy trotted back for the chainsaw. "Hey! Hey! Brats! Fuckin' brats! What the hell?"

A chorus of yells broke out. Sawyer lifted herself up on rubbery arms. The gun-girl was spinning about and flailing at a crowd of small shadows. For a moment Sawyer believed the statues had come to life and were attacking Two Hands. But instead a group of children were trying desperately to get out of the way. They had avoided being detected while Sawyer had sliced up the last of the Red Poles, but their attempt to sneak by Revy while she concentrated on beating Sawyer had failed.

With an effort, Sawyer began crawling.

"Get away from me! Let go of that chainsaw, punk!" Revy was shouting angrily. Sawyer grabbed the base of a statue and pulled herself up. The frozen thoughts in her head began to move. Sawyer couldn't outrun or outfight the Lagoon gunslinger. If she made for the road, she'd be pulled down like a wounded deer. The sirens weren't getting any closer ; Chief Watsup and the costumed clown posse were moving in with the speed of a snail.

Suddenly, Sawyer knew exactly what to do. Her cousin was the key. Let the two kill each other and she'd be rid of them both. Doubled up, she stumbled towards the warehouse. All she had to do was make the warehouse.

"Come... here, back! You!" Revy shouted incoherently and pursued, chainsaw in hand.

--

"I'm out," said Chaiyo and discarded the assault rifle with a clatter. Rock removed his hands from over his ears.

"I tol' you not to use full auto," raged Alak. "I'm down to a half clip."

"Be quiet!" shouted Parang. "Stop telling the whole world!"

There were less than twenty now. Huddled together under the fading light of the last lantern. A pile of trash had caught on fire near a stack of crates, smoke was starting to curl around the eaves of the ceiling.

"Gimme the damn money and no one else gets hurt!" the voice echoed through the warehouse. "If you're waiting for the cops, then ya can wait in pieces! They ain't rushin'. Gives me time to play with this one."

Screams ripped the air and were cut off. "Damn, she was no fun at all. Aww, poor thing."

"Oh God, oh God. Who'd he kill?" whimpered Gaavrila. All self control had vanished and she stared pitifully at Rock. "Please, you've got to save us."

"We can't sit here," Rock snapped, looking away. "This building's going to go up in flames. I bet most of these waste containers are flammable. There's a back entrance. We all go now and run like hell. Scatter. Don't wait for anyone. Most of you should make it."

"What kind of a plan is that?" yelled Parang. "For all we know Kwan's men are waiting. We'll be cut down"

"It's all I got," Rock lost his temper. "I don't know who's out there – the front's covered, the Ghost Woman's obviously on the side. Stay here, we burn."

"It's too late, too late! It's her, it's the Ghost Woman! Behind us!" Niken squealed who had just sat up, rubbing her jaw.

Rock spun about. A bloodsoaked and battered figure no larger than the assembled children came sprinting from the back of the building. Before Rock could react to her swift approach, the Cleaner threw herself in a long arcing leap towards him.

"Shoot her, shoot her," someone yelled.

Rock staggered back and almost went down. The Cleaner grabbed Rock, snaking her arms around his neck, and swinging around to his back like a monkey, legs entwining his waist.

"No, no, don't shoot!" he yelled, spinning about and trying to reach back and pull off the little woman.. Alak fired anyway and the bullet snapped by their heads. "Stop that!'

"What the hell's going on in there?" shouted Gunny Tom. "Fred, is that you?"

A small blade flashed in Sawyer's hand and was thrust up against Rock's throat.

"**Shenhua's gift... Stop ... stop her now..." **Sawyer spoke in his ear. "**If I die... you all die. Benjamin... Dutch... THAT one... It's an absolute."**

Revy followed; stepping into the dim light, breathing heavily from the pursuit, foam and spit flecked her lips. She dropped the chainsaw with a clatter and shook her head at the huddled gathering.

"Rock, Rock, Rock," the gun barrel came up. "I ask a favor, next thing I know we're way beyond Thunderdome and there's nothin but brats here, there and everywhere. I asked ya to help two girls, just two, not every single stray in Roanapur. Do me a favor and turn to your side? Fred-Fred needs some 9 .mm."

"**Don't move," **Sawyer dug her head into Rock's back.

"Do I have to kill more of ya? I got a big surprise coming!" bawled Gunny Tom. He began to bang on the metal walls outside the warehouse.

Revy pivoted. She dropped the Glock and in one blindingly swift motion drew both Berettas from the shoulder holsters. The guns crashed as she shot through the thin sheet metal of the wall. There was an animal howl and the banging stopped. Nothing more could be heard.

"Got him," said Revy. She spit. "Hey, did I paint your fence red, Tommy Sawyer? Shit, that was easy. One guy had you all cornered? Fuckin' lame."

"_Should I tell her about the time you were in my bed? You do remember... the business with the Aisin Gioro?" _whispered Sawyer rapidly in Rock's ear. Rock was surprised, Sawyer had turned off the ultravoice. "_Stop her. Do something! I want your word the piece of meat won't kill me. I don't trust that one. Otherwise you die."_

"Your turn," Revy pushed aside a cowering child and turned back towards Rock and Sawyer..

"_Back up against that pillar," _Sawyer snuffled. Rock had no choice.

"We have to get these children to the boat," Rock blurted out as Revy bore down. "Dr. Chiet and I agreed on 50 thousand. Sawyer's not part of the deal. You can't kill her. It's a bad idea"

"But I really, really want to," pouted Revy. "I just killed her brother and I want to kill her. It's an old story."

"**Cousin..." **Sawyer said, hurriedly toggling on the ultravoice.

"For God's sake, I agree," shouted Gaavrila hysterically. "Shoot the monster. She killed my friends."

"**I killed no children," **Sawyer protested. "**I'm on your side... I did kill the Red Pole Squad... but... this bitch-hog... she's the one who had the chainsaw... "**

The children scrambled away from Revy in sudden alarm. The stack of crates finally caught on fire. That and Sawyer's words were the breaking point for some. Five boys seized the chance to break and run towards the back. The last remnants of the group clustered around Gaavrila and Parang in a tight knot watching the confrontation with a paralyzed fascination.

"Bitch-hog?!" Revy screeched. "What a freakin liar! Fuck it Rock, you're gonna have to take one for the team." She pointed the guns at the two of them.

"Shit," gasped Rock. Sawyer jerked in response and the blade pressed against Rock's neck.

"**You don't have... time..." **grated Sawyer. "**She'll kill you all... She's a weasel... in the chickens..." **

A low throbbing began to pulse throughout the building. The noise grew louder. Revy paused, the gun-barrels wavered as she looked uncertainly about. "What the hell?"

"**The man... comes around," **announced Sawyer. The toneless voice sounded gleeful.

**--**

The front of the warehouse tore apart with an ear splitting crash as the Komatsu bulldozer plowed through the sheet metal siding. Gunny Tom bounced in the cab cage with an earsplitting grin, manipulating the gears and levers. Stymied by the unexpected resistance he had run over to the equipment lot and hot-wired the beast.

"Make it 60 thou!" Revy shouted. "GO! Rock get them out the back now! That's an order! I'll take care of the Sawyers."

Sawyer released her death grip on Rock and slid off, stepping behind the pillar. Rock grabbed two of the small girls who stood frozen in fear and ran.

The boy Alak attacked at the bulldozer, legs pumping, head down. He fired the AK-47 from his his hip in a sustained barrage. The bullets bounced off the bulldozer's blade and ricochetted back into the fleeing group.

The mute girl, Rohingya slumped over with a gasp and toppled Gaavrila out of the wheelchair. Blood spread across her back.

Parang heaved Niken off the ground. Somehow in the confusion she had found the duffel bag with Lee Kwan's stolen money. They fled with the rest as the bulldozer ground towards them.

Alak tripped, the blade of the bulldozer came crashing down on the boy before he could move.

Revy charged the advancing bulldozer, the Cutlasses blazing. She targeted the cab cage, and shattered the glass enclosure. Gunny Tom's ducked behind the concealment of the steering mechanism, his hand's danced upon the levers. The blade began to rise. The dozer started to skew to the side into the support pillars of the building.

Revy bounded up and forward, stretching for the rising blade, the guns canted in her hands as she kept shooting. The sole of her boot, wet and slippery, slid on the edge and she spun head over heels out of control to the side of the bulldozer, bouncing off the metal tread. Her scream lost among the tumult of the storage barrels cascading out of their racks. The roof came down.

"**Oh... " **Sawyer said and threw herself to the floor.

--

Gunny Tom put the gears in neutral. Shaking glass fragments from his hair, he jumped down from the cab and walked into the demolition and dust. The front of the warehouse was totally destroyed. The back was still intact, but not for long. The fire was beginning to spread, smoke and flames billowing into the night sky.

"Well, well," Gunny Tom chuckled as Gaavrila pulled herself out from underneath Rohingya's body.

"Looks like someone already tried to kill ya. Where's your legs? I don't have much time. I'll let you live if you gimme the China man's money."

"Go to hell," rasped Gaavrila and thumbed back the hammer on the revolver she still clutched. Before he could react, she pulled the trigger.

There was a click. Gaavrila pulled the trigger again with the same result.

_Two Hands stepped back, releasing the cylinder of the revolver and slapping the palm of her hand against the ejector rod. The ammo splashed into a puddle of sewage followed by the now unloaded gun._

"N-No," said Gaavrila. She kept pulling the trigger. Why... why was the Heavenly Father leaving her at the mercy of this demon? After all she had been through in this wretched city, was her loyalty still doubted? Why, _why_?!

"Stupid bitch-hog," snarled Gunny Tom, his seamed face white with rage and fright. He surged forward, the bowie knife poised. He grabbed Gaavrila by the neck and lifted her up with little effort and shook the girl violently. The revolver with it's useless ammunition dropped to the floor.

--

Fuck, Revy thought. Her body and the back of her head were pressed firmly against the ground, a loud ringing in her ears. She was pinned between the bulldozer, underneath the debris, a flurry of blurs swimming about. Squinting for clarity, she stretched her free hand outwards towards her guns.

Damn it, they were out of reach. She tried to move, but discovered the rubble she was pinned under was heavier than expected. She couldn't move anything from the neck down, and one of her arms was pinned. Revy knew no one could see her. The debris surrounded her, hiding her form, but a small gap allowed her to see what was going on in her line of vision. Tilting her head further back, in the not-so-far distance, she saw the inbred hick stooping over... Jasmine? No, no, it was that Russian cripple. The ringing in her ears began to subside and Revy heard wailing.

"Please! I-I–!!"

"The fuck are you tryin' to tell me, girl?" Gunny Tom tightened his grip, taking his time to relish the young girl's begging before flicking the knife across the girl's face. He cut Gaavrila's cheek to the bone.

Revy groaned and froze in place as the scene before her began to warp, the fuzzy lines around the image poking and prodding the two persons. Revy cursed silently at the symptom of withdrawal. Shit, not another trip. Of all the times to happen...

Gaavrila's crying faded into the background, but never disappeared completely as the remains of the warehouse morphed into... a bowling alley? What the hell?

_...she ran and did a back-flip through the air, crossing her arms and shooting a row of two-bit gangsters while Jumbo sliced and diced his way through the low-rate gunmen. Everything sped up, the babbling of that sack of shit that had the Yakuza princess walking away and his remaining posse dropping like flies with every pull of her trigger, all of it had passed in a cyclone of color._

_Time slowed down. She backed against a wall, quickly reloading before twirling around and aiming the Cutlasses at a relatively young, feeble gangster that immediately dropped his gun and pumped his hands in the air. She smiled gleefully at the pathetic expression on his face as he begged._

"_Give! Give! GIVE GIVE GIVE!!"_

"...I give... Give!" The scene had melted back to the warehouse, Gaavrila squirming with cuts adorning her face as Gunny Tom twirled the knife.

"Huh? What's that? You give? Are ya gonna give me the money?" he said with a mocking, light-hearted smile.

Revy's eyes widened and there was a sharp exhale through her clenched teeth, the scene shifting once more. No, no, no, not this...

_The Berettas still raised, she pushed herself off the edge of the wall and swaggered towards the begging gangster, a feral smile plastered on her features._

"_Give? Give me what?" _

_The sniveling male began to wave his arms around above him, struggling to speak English clearly through his garbled Japanese._

"_I- I cannot speak -! Ah!"_

"I-I can't... can't speak... Hurts!" Gaavrila choked out, her cries mixing English and Russian. Her face displayed a myriad of gashes, most of her flesh barely visible beneath the veil of dripping blood.

"What about that thing you were sayin'? About the giving?" Gunny Tom chuckled. Revy hissed as the scene kept switching back and forth.

"_You're gonna give me somethin', right? Well, c'mon! What the fuck..."_

"...are you tryin' to say?"

"Give!" yelled Gaavrila.

"_Give! Give! Give!" the gangster shouted. _

Revy tossed her head. It didn't matter if she shut her eyes or not. The images just kept coming. She snapped her eyes open and saw Gaavrila and the one-eyed bastard, the flashback at the bowling alley still mixing and blurring alongside the events in the torn warehouse. What was this? Why of all things was she having this memory now? Did she think that... No, damn it, no! She wasn't anything like that one-eyed bastard.

_She held the Beretta to his forehead._

"_Quit yappin', you goofball."_

Gunny Tom put the point of the knife at the hollow of Gaavrila's neck.

"Shut your trap."

Revy heaved against the debris holding her down, and stretched out the free hand to within an inch of the nearest to no avail.

"_You gonna give it to me or not? C'mon!"_

No, it couldn't end like this... Not again..

_There was a loud bang followed by a hollow thud. _

The final scream was cut short, followed by an agonized rattle as Gunny Tom thrust the blade into Gaavrila's throat and twisted. He tossed the girl aside with a casual motion..

"_Hey, Jumbo, the game's up." Turning away from the corpse of the gangster she had shot, she looked to the sword-wielding man with a smirk. "Boy, we made a mess!"_

"Heh, what a mess," huffed Gunny Tom, looking around with veiled, still hungry look. Nothing left to kill and the approaching sirens getting louder. He turned on his heel and trotted out of sight past the bulldozer..

Still breathing, Gaavrila's clouded eyes were staring straight ahead, blood pouring from her neck and face. Revy's breath caught in her throat, the young Russian looking as though she was staring straight through the wreckage and could see her.

"You... You demon bitch..." Gaavrila muttered weakly, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire "It's all your fault." Her eyes glazed over.

Revy thrashed her head and free arm, trying to wrench free from the wreckage, but the attempt was futile. Her eyes bulged and she unclenched her teeth, foam coming from the corners of her mouth as she tried to scream. A pathetic whine came out instead.

--

There was a rusty groan as Sawyer pushed the sheet metal off of her body. She sat back, reclining on one hand while she rubbed her head with the other. Dust and dirt came free from her hair as she shook her head. She looked around at the wreckage. The entire front of the warehouse had collapsed, the night sky was visible, no one else was in sight.

Shakily getting to her feet, she scrambled over the debris, remembering where that stupid gun-girl had carelessly dropped her chainsaw. She dug through the rubble and soon saw the guide bar. Moving the scraps away, she grabbed hold of the chainsaw and pulled it towards her, holding the engine block to her chest as a dull shine reflected off of the bar from the flames, as though greeting its owner. She had her chainsaw back.

Her head perked up as a gagging, coughing sound registered. The noise was coming from behind the bulldozer. Slowly getting up, she cautiously walked over, stepping over the corpse of that young Russian girl, knowing full well her cousin's work.

Creeping over to a pile of debris behind the bulldozer, the gagging was getting louder. Sawyer saw two stainless steel Berettas scattered apart and a couple of twitching fingers beneath a heavy wooden beam near a tent-like pile of rubble. Sawyer slightly cocked her head to the side and roughly nudged the beam with her boot. The rubble slid aside, revealing underneath the snarling face of the Lagoon girl.

--

The red veins around the golden-brown eyes pulsed as Revy saw the ghost woman with her chainsaw in hand, clinical, dispassionate blue eyes staring down at her. The pent up scream that had been building within spewed out in an ear-piercing screech. It was the Cleaner, the spooky chick, the ghost woman. That one-eyed son of a bitch had killed Jasmine and now Fred-Fred was going to drag her down to the meat locker.

--

Sawyer gripped the ripcord of her chainsaw and pulled, the engine sputtering once more. Refusing to give up, Sawyer hit the chainsaw against the nearby tread of the bulldozer. She pulled the ripcord again.

There was a strained growl for a couple of seconds before it settled to a soft purr. The chainsaw was working. Sawyer smiled wryly. It wasn't out of gas; just an engine malfunction. She'd have to get that looked into...

Turning towards Revy once again, Sawyer took in the plight of the pinned... meat. Foam and bile dripped from the screaming mouth, the brown eyes wide and unfocused, it thrashed its head wildly as the debris restrained it from the neck down. It looked just like a trapped, rabid rat. The corner of Sawyer's mouth twitched before the blood red lips settled down to an indifferent line, stepping on top of the free hand to pin it down.

Sawyer moved the tip of the chainsaw, the still blades inches away from Revy's face. As the gun-girl screamed lines of obscenities and incoherent sentences, disturbed thoughts swirled in Sawyer's head. This rat, this bitch-hog was at her mercy. She could dismember it... no her. First, the hands, Two Hand's pride would go, then her forearms and her feet, then her calves, and Sawyer could watch as she stumbled around on the bleeding stumps and...

The carbide teeth began to spin, the roars drowning out her incessant screaming, but not biting into the too soft flesh yet. Sawyer inhaled slowly. This disgusting woman... The one who killed her father, the one responsible for the disaster that caused her to leave to ranch, the one who triggered the events that made her become the Cleaner...

Dark sapphire eyes narrowed.

Chips of debris began to fly as Revy screamed. This was the end. That damned ghost woman was going to chop her up and skip along with her dismembered body all the way to Hell. Right when she thought the metallic teeth were going to bite into her skin, Sawyer pulled the chainsaw away.

The Cleaner exhaled, eyelids trembling. Gunny Tom was still out there. No, the useless creature didn't deserve to die here. Not yet. Sawyer lifted her foot off the pinned hand.

She deserved a fate that would be much worse.

Not knowing what had just happened, Revy wiggled her shoulders. Most of the debris that was on the upper half of her body was free. Everything from the stomach down was still pinned, but she began to twist in an attempt to break loose, turning over so her chest was slightly facing the floor. Revy froze as there was a malevolent purr, the still teeth of the chainsaw coming to a rest by her neck.

"**Stay still... and look at me."** With a snarl, the gunslinger placed the bottom of her forearms on the ground and looked up, golden-brown eyes meeting dark blue.

"**I'll let you go free... if you agree to a deal, first."**

"Wh-what the hell do you want, spooky?" Revy said through clenched teeth.

"**You have a boat... yes?"** Sawyer asked rhetorically. Revy hissed with a nod.

"**Listen..."** said Sawyer. "**The police are coming... let me... get onto the boat... I... we need to leave... the city, for now. Agree to do that... and I will cut the rest of the debris... and don't even think... about turning your guns on me... once you're free."** As a warning, the carbide teeth spun by the side of Revy's face. With a curse, she jerked her head away, avoiding the blades before they slowed to a stop, the chainsaw purring again.

"Deal," Revy growled. She crossed her fingers. Goddamned goth girl, she'd discover her mistake soon enough.

Sawyer cut Revy free from the rest of the warehouse scraps, making sure she kept the chainsaw close enough to the gunslinger to let her know what was going to happen if she made a motion to use the guns on her.

--

Revy stumbled past the small, twisted corpse, head averted. She refused to look or stop. Together they fled from the burning building keeping to the shadows as the first of the emergency vehicles came down the port road, lights flashing.

Sawyer sighed painfully, inwardly scolding herself for getting caught up in the theatrics when she had reached her breaking point back at the Hell Garden. The last thing she needed was for Watsup and Roanapur's finest to come after her because of the dead Red Poles. Flee the city, contact Shenhua and let Mr. Chang smooth things over. Those were her immediate priorities.

"Why the hell did you free me back there?" the gunslinger blurted out, breaking their uneasy silence.

Sawyer's eyes narrowed a centimeter. Before she could speak, Revy continued.

"Don't give me the boat bullshit either," she said, "You don't need the _Black Lagoon. _Plenty of ways to disappear around here when the heat's on. Why the fuck did you really cut me loose back there?"

Revy's muscles tensed as Sawyer took a long pause, intensifying her glare towards the gothic woman.

Licking the dried blood on her lip, a small wound compared to the damage the bitch-hog had inflicted on her back in the Garden, Sawyer silently thought back to all the times she had come across bullet ridden bodies in Roanapur, corpses and people who were barely alive in the alleyways and the Yellow Flag, the recognizable works of Two-Hands.

Thinking way back to when she was just a little girl at the ranch, she remembered Gunny Tom's flailing form as he was pinned to the wall with a pitchfork. Two Hands work, the work of the punk that had drowned her father.

Seething, Sawyer answered the question.

"**I've... cleaned up enough... of your messes..."** A fiery rush went up Sawyer's spine and the air suddenly became stagnant. She refused to tell the wretched gunslinger, but Sawyer knew her cousin was lurking somewhere nearby in the dark.

"**This time... clean up your own mess."**

Revy surged ahead with a curse. Sawyer smirked, and with an unnoticed gesture acknowledged the watching eye of Gunny Tom. She invited her cousin to follow with the small curl of a welcoming finger. Let him confront the bitch-hog, let the two demons fight. The ghost woman would be perfectly content watching them drag each other to Hell.


	11. Chapter 11

******Chapter 11: Dark Waters**

"Dutch isn't picking up," Benny announced, joining the anxious Rock on the pier. Flames billowed into the night sky from the wreck of the warehouse further down the waterfront, casting a lurid glow over the bay and the docked PT boat. Fire trucks and police cars with their sirens squawking crept slowly by towards the fire.

"You have to admire their caution," Benny said, running a hand through his tousled hair and adjusting his glasses. "No one in their right mind wants to walk into a gun battle. Remember how they didn't even show up till the next day when it was our place?"

"I'm going back," said Rock with frustration and worry overcoming any innate caution. "Revy's in trouble. She should have been here by now. Something has gone wrong. Last I saw she was going head on with a bulldozer."

"What do I do with them?" Benny jerked his thumb back at the anchored boat. "I'm not very good with children, you know. I don't have your magic touch. They seem... rather traumatized."

"Get them below deck and out of sight," Rock said as calmly as he could. "I'm going. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No, there she is!" burst out Benny, and he pointed as two figures stepped out of the shadows by the corner of the _Black Lagoon_ warehouse and made their way slowly around towards the dock. "Hey, check it out, looks like she rounded up another one of your kiddies."

"That's no child," said Rock. An absolute tidal wave of anger and disbelief coursed through him. He went directly towards the two women, clenching his fists. Sawyer looked at him blankly, not expecting the punch that sent the small woman reeling back. She fell and almost tumbled off into the shallow waters lapping at the piles of the dock.

"What the hell?!" shouted Rock. For a moment he forgot himself and swore profusely in Japanese, then he switched back. "What's she doing here?"

"Rock," said Revy.

Sawyer rolled and sat up. Still clutching the chainsaw with one hand, she wiped blood off her mouth.

"She's a murderer!" Rock continued angrily. "What kind of a sick person, even in Roanapur, hunts children and kills them? Get her the..."

"Rock, shut up," Revy said hoarsely, her voice rising. "Saw Girl and I made a business deal. We're taking her for a boat ride."

Furious, Rock spun about and then stopped. He had been so focused on meting out justice on Sawyer, he had neglected to even check out Revy. Horrified, his breath caught in his throat and he bit his lip.

Mud and dirt streaked the unkempt black hair and grimed her face so her hollow eyes started out. Her black top was half torn off, the cut off shorts barely kept together with a few threads. Innumerable cuts and scrapes turned her legs into a bloody patchwork.

"I know," slurred Revy with a demented titter, reading the look in his eyes. "I'm gonna be a walking scab for the next coupla weeks. Not every day I fight a bulldozer ya know. Lots and lots of painkillers and I'll be as good as new. Screw _yaba._ Codeine, oxycontin, morphine.. oh yeah, I want morphine."

"Revy," he said and made to assist her, but she pushed him away with an almost embarrassed look at Sawyer.

"Make sure Spooky gets on the boat," she said in a low, eager tone and then lurched past him towards the boat and the waiting Benny. "I gotta call Dutch. I'll clean up quick."

"**That... hurt...**" said Sawyer. She had propped herself against a dock piling, her face shadowed by the electrical box above.

"How could you?" cried Rock beside himself with rage. "How could you even think about coming to us for assistance after what you've just taken part in?"

"**My cousin... is a predator,**" she said finally. "**Predators hunt... the weak ... the ill ... the young. And when... we're in a pack ... we'll take even the strong down... It's what my family does .... did.**"

"How does that justify anything," asked Rock. Sawyer regarded him dispassionately.

"**I'm small... and I'm weak... so I do what is necessary... to survive... Now.. I need a getaway... Help me up.**"

Warily, and with half his attention on the chainsaw, Rock reached out a hand and pulled Sawyer up. Her grip was surprisingly strong. But then she sagged, and dropped to one knee as if in distress.

"**Give me ... a moment,**" she panted. "**I'll be right there.**"

A thought struck Rock, "What did you mean back in the warehouse: that if you die, we all die?"

"**I've taken precautions..." **murmured Sawyer. **"That is all you get... from me."**

**--**

The tableaux was sharply lit by the dock and boat lights: The two men shouting at each other. The Japanese man on the dock helping the the small remnant of the street children onto the boat – the greater majority had fled to whatever refuge they could find elsewhere in the city. The blonde man stood on the deck, with his hands on his hips. Two Hands was nowhere in sight.

Sawyer's eyes narrowed.

"**Keep thinking... I'm small... and weak,**"she said to herself, unheard over the tumult. The boat engines had been switched on. "**But... I'm not stupid.**"

Sawyer smashed the heavy metal engine block of the chainsaw down on the lock on the electrical box. The metal door swung open. With the edge of the palm she swept all the switches off.

--

"What the hell happened to the dock lights?" snapped Revy coming out of the day room. She pulled the replacement black cutoff down with a finishing wiggle.

"Maybe something to do with the fire, I'll turn on the rest of the boat lights," said Rock. Before he could say more Parang touched him tentatively on the shoulder.

"Where's Gaavrila?" burst out Parang. "Is she okay? Is she hurt? Why didn't you bring Gaavrila?"

"Where's my brother?" Chaiyo asked with a catch in his throat. Then he ran back and forth on the deck in a panic before collapsing with a cry.

Revy barely gave them both a dead eyed flicker of a look. Without hesitation, she tore the duffel bag away from the startled Niken, unzipped it and licked her lips.

"Why are ya here, Benny?" she rasped at Benny, head still down as she contemplated the bundles of cash.

"Swabbing the decks," Benny said dryly. Revy swept past him towards the side. "Seriously, though, I was working on installing some new..."

"Dutch is out, I left a message," she interrupted. "I'm in charge. Rock, get these brats below deck. Benny, we're going now. Make a run out of the harbor. Silent running Rock, forget about the lights. We'll get in touch with Dutch when we can and meet up at Makhonem Cove fifteen clicks south of here. C'mon Saw Girl, what's it going to be?" "

Sawyer had come up to the boat. She looked down at the oily water swirling between the side of the boat and the posts of the pier. She gripped the chainsaw protectively till her knuckles cracked.

"What'sa matter?" jeered Revy. "Can't swim? Chief Watsup likes to do full cavity searches – or so I've been told."

Silently, Sawyer took the extended hand and was pulled up on deck.

"Why the hell is she here?" shrieked Niken, still smarting over the loss of the duffel bag. "What the fuck? Are you going to doublecross us?"

"**That one... is the doublecrosser,**"Sawyer said. "**How do... you think... the man with the knife... found you so easily?**"

"No!" whimpered Niken as Parang and the rest looked accusingly at her. She dropped to her knees. "I had no choice! They were going to kill me! You don't know what they did to the doctor."

"You bitch," hissed Parang.

"Fuck," snarled Revy. "What a fuckin' loser. And I thought - I thought - never mind. Rock! Benny! Let's get this show on the road."

--

"**Am I.... pretty?**" asked Sawyer coquettishly. She spun about in the chair kicking her feet, one booted sole swinging perilously close to Niken who huddled against the bulwark, her eyes blank. The two were not welcome below, the remaining children had objected violently to Sawyer's and the now shunned girl's presence.

Benny gave Sawyer an alarmed glance. He was busy at the controls; piloting the boat through the channel, guided by the red lights blinking on the buoys. "Yeah, you certainly are. The first aid kit's over there if you need it."

Sawyer looked out the side window. The boat slid past a cluster of junks and snake boats towards the massive statue of the Buddha at the harbor entrance. She focused on her reflection and shook her head disapprovingly.

Two Hands had beaten her badly back in the Hell Garden. Her lip was split, the left eye was swelling shut. It was difficult to take a full breath, she might even have a broken rib. Her foot stung from the shot Revy had taken. Her outfit was encrusted with blood and filth and she was beginning to stink like one of Uncle Nubbin's creations. No, she thought, definitely not pretty. She twirled a finger in the thick mass of hair, a nervous habit she had never been able to break.

"Why aren't you with the other kids?" asked Benny in a distracted tone. He turned on the radar and sonar, intent on the other gauges, monitoring temperature and pressures

How amusing, the Black Lagoon mechanic thought she was one of these children.

Sawyer smiled, a mere twitch of the lips that was enough to cause a drop of blood to dribble down her chin. With the back of her hand she flicked it towards the cowering Niken.

"We're clear, over," Benny said, adjusting the headset. He shoved the throttles forward and the large boat shuddered as the Packard engines powered all the way up. The Gulf of Thailand lay open before them.

Through the side window, Sawyer could see Gunny Tom pull himself up out of the shadows over the torpedo casing. Her cousin had been lying in wait between the port gunnel and the tube for the right moment. Somehow right before they had cast off, he had managed to slip aboard as expected, unnoticed in the darkness and confusion. Sawyer knew he would follow to the bitter end; desperate for the money. How pathetic, how predictable the jackass was in the end.

There was a wrench, tossed aside on the deck by her chair, right by where she had carefully placed the chainsaw. Sawyer bent over at the waist with a slight mechanical gasp and picked up the tool. Niken watched wide-eyed, too terrified of the Ghost Woman to utter any word of warning to the mechanic.

"**Do you have any... gas canisters down below?**"

**--**

"We got a problem, Rock," Revy said grimly. They stood at the bow with the reflection of the moon dancing on the waves as the boat drove south along the coast away from the island city. "We were all supposed to lay low after the fuckin' Maid's shoot-em-up until Bangkok lost interest in us. You can't even imagine what a clusterfuck we're in."

Rock stepped to her side and lit up a cigarette, his hand cupped over the match. "If it's such a mess, why'd we bring Sawyer along then?"

"'Cause she's gotta go." Rock blinked at the statement. "Oh, it's fucking payback time. I had my suspicions, but ya can't ask... Hey, do ya remember killing my only friend, ya inbred little runt? Well do ya?!"

"I'm not keeping up," murmured Rock. "So you met Sawyer before coming to Roanapur?"

"Eh, Rock, it's like this," Revy said. "I had a friend once, can you believe it? Someone who didn't want to use me or abuse me. And she was my friend for what, four hours? And because of me, she got torn to pieces by Spooky's sicko family. Think about it, a clan of Texas chainsaw murderers! And nobody cared, nobody missed my friend. Hell, I checked the news afterwards – there was nothin'. Fuck, I don't think she even told me her real name..."

Revy swayed from fatigue. She began to speak slowly then.

"I'm tired ... so tired. But I can't sleep yet... sleep without dreams. Rock, cause it's worse than you want to know. You can't see it, but I do...

"I know where you stand... but Colonel Travis is drawin' the line in the sand. I need to know if you'll step out with me - not just sellin' me no wolf tickets, you know, blowin' smoke and talkin' the talk this last year. Now Bangkok's gonna come looking for me this time, and there's not enough grease in the world for Chief Watsup's ass. There's a pile of bodies back at that warehouse, and a bunch of brats running about who think they saw me with a chainsaw. There's ten too many on this boat right now.

"I won't let them hang me, I won't be strapped down to a chair up in Bang Kwang, and I won't be dragged into little miss horror's meat locker. Got too much of a taste of that for my liking tonight. The only way I'll go is with my finger in the air, a cigarette on my lips and the Cutlasses red hot and smokin'. That's my terminal ticket; the way I'm punchin' it.

"You got the right to call me a murderer.... You have a right to do that... but you have no right to judge me, after all you've seen. So they're kids... so what? I remember when I was in New York. Two boys... on the sidewalk of Canal Street in Chinatown... I was told to cap their asses, and I wanted to do it... to prove I had it. They were my age, maybe thirteen... I don't know... so I walked up to them, cause who's gonna watch out for a girl? And I shot 'em... I shot 'em dead... and I remember it... I never want to forget it. I didn't feel a damn thing ... cause I knew they woulda done the same to me... laughed with their crew about slaggin' the bitch. So I'm all grown up now... and now those kids down below can kill me with a story to the man... nothin's different. They gotta go, like kittens in a bag.

"My mind's been all messed up the last day or two, but it's clear now. I was seeing things, believin' shit meant somethin' when it didn't. The doc's dead, Wheelie's dead, and that Niken's a snitch -- so the the deal's off, time to dump the cargo in the South China Seas.

"'Cause you see Rock, we're fuckin' pirates. Sometimes you roll up your sleeves and put out the plank. And when we get back home, I'll hunt down the one eyed walking piece of shit and do him good. And we make a cool hundred grand. End of story."

"That's your solution then?" Rock said quietly, though he was appalled at her rationale.

"It didn't work out the way you wanted, so toss the children overboard?"

"Yeah. Not like it's never happened before."

"You told me not to look," he rebuked her sharply. "And I did. Balalaika eliminated the entire Washimine group at my request, and that included Yukio in the end. But now you want me to plunge in all the way, go far beyond the pale? You know something though, this isn't about any choice I need to take. It's all about you."

Rock took a deep drag on the cigarette and then exhaled. Without looking at her he said, "When's the sun going to shine for you, Revy?"

She flinched as if struck and then slumped, her chin drooping. "You bastard. Using my own words."

"No, it's good business," said Rock firmly. "We honor the deal, we get these children free and clear like we were paid to do. And we can't touch Sawyer, she said she's taken precautions, like a dead man's switch if she ever disappears. So we go into hiding until Dutch clears the air with Hotel Moscow and the Triads. And it looks to me as if Lee Kwan's the one who has some explaining to do."

"You're going to be the death of me," burst out Revy. Her hands moved in a frantic pattern. "Shit, Rock – we're the hired help! Do you really think Mr. Chang's gonna listen to me over a fellow Triad boss? Hell, he tossed me aside to Dutch first chance he had. Nothing I've done for him in the past counts now. We gotta clean this up, even goth girl knows that – she knew the risk when she stepped aboard – and boy, did she take one chance too many. Sawyer goes first, her and that chainsaw – and damn the torpedoes."

"No," said Rock. But Revy had drawn the Berettas. Oblivious to everything except the need to satiate her desire, she began to turn towards the chart room. But then their eyes met and her face crumpled.

"_Don't you look at me! Don't you look at me like that!"_

_--_

"All together now," snickered Gunny Tom stepping into the cramped quarters of the chart room. Sawyer tossed aside the wrench and stood up. The mechanic lay crumpled on the floor at her feet. Niken made a distressed sound and scrabbled at the bulwark.

"Nothin' like a little salt air," snickered Gunny. He raked Sawyer with a beady glance. "Heh, looks like those Triad boys had themselves a good time with ya,"

Sawyer cast a quick look through the port windshield of the chart room. Two Hands and her man stood at the bow. Judging by the impassioned movements Two Hands was making with her hands, they must be in the middle of an argument. Everything with that cow was high drama, she thought. What did the man see in that creature?

"**I killed them... all of them...**"said Sawyer. She kept the chair between herself and her cousin as he looked over the instrument panel and peered out.

"Sure ya did," sneered Gunny dismissively. "Probably ran about squeaking like a mouse, waving your little toy. Fuck it. It's just those two out there? The last of those little shits are down below right?"

"**Yes.**"

"I'll kill the man," said Gunny licking his lips, his face ghastly from the phosphorous glow of the instrument panel. "Then we'll have a little game of hunt and gut with the brats till this barge is painted red. But that skank of a bitch-hog in the shorts. Something about her... I wanna to make her howl. Did ya see how she tried to jump the dozer?"

"**Apo...logize,**" croaked Sawyer. She leaned against the panel, a hand resting close to the throttles.

"Fer what?" asked Gunny. His attention was focused on his prey. He pulled the sawed off shotgun out of the back holster. "Oh, that! Ha, ha – whatcha worried about? You survived didn't cha?"

"**Apo...logize!**"snarled Sawyer, dropping her head down. She tensed up like a steel coil. Still she watched Two Hands through the window.

"What's your problem?" Gunny glared back. He pressed back on the break open switch on his sawed off shotgun and reloaded. Satisfied, he snapped the barrel and stock together with a click. "We gonna get the money. Ah, don't tell me you're still in an uproar about what happened to your daddy's girlfriend?"

"**APOLOGIZE!**" Sawyer made an attempt to shriek, but the volume on the ultravoice stayed the same. Two Hands had started to turn around. Sawyer grabbed the twin throttles and pulled them down, shutting down the engines.

"You little shitter!" howled Gunny stumbling and off balance

Sawyer dived towards the chainsaw, picked it up off the floor in one swift blur of motion. She bolted past Niken and over a storage bin with no regard for safety. Feet first, she dropped down the open hatch that led below-deck.

--

"What's Benny doing?" exclaimed Rock. The engines fell silent and the boat began to turn against the waves of it's own momentum.

"Don't look at me!" gasped Revy. She pulled away. "Fuck you!"

The blast of a shotgun tore the stillness of the night apart, followed by screams.

"Benny!" shouted Rock. He scrambled past Revy towards the port side of the chart room and the stern.

Wearily, and with none of her usual vigor, Revy walked slowly towards the starboard side. What did it matter anymore? The look Rock had given her had said everything, he had finally judged her over the choice to do in the children. She was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer even in his eyes. It was over.

Revy shook her head and slid past the forward torpedo tube and the day room. If killing was all she was good for, then she'd do some more. Only killing would keep the dreams at bay. She brought both guns up with a sigh and dropped into a crouch as she came around.

Gunny Tom stood by the aft torpedo on the port side, with Niken held in front as a shield. The girl whimpered in pain as the blade of the bowie knife pricked her throat. Within the corner of her peripheral vision Revy saw Rock pulling Parang back across the deck. There was a dark smear on the deck. The two were far too close and exposed. Gunny Tom had the smoking shotgun pointed at them.

"Been waitin' for ya. Drop those pretty little guns of yours, do it now!" Gunny Tom snarled when he saw Revy, his one eye gleaming with satisfaction. "Or I will kill these two and the girl right now."

Niken screeched as the blade glided across her cheek. Rock shouted in frustration.

"Do you think a hostage means shit to me?" smiled Revy. Such a simple matter, pulling triggers. In less than a second she could riddle the man and the girl, drop them twitching to the deck in a heap, the threat eliminated. But in her mind's eye she saw again the look in Rock's eyes and hesitated. She stepped to the left, both Cutlasses on target

"Don't do that," snapped Gunny Tom, head turning to keep her within sight with his sole remaining eye, his left eye. For a moment, the shotgun wavered away Rock and Parang.

"You know what I fuckin' hate?" Revy sneered. "Janis Joplin. Hate all that sixties shit. Rock and roll shouldn't be about fuckin' peace and spaced out freakos. It's about balls to the wall, heavy metal noise."

"What are ya talkin' about?" Gunny Tom asked suspiciously. Behind him, from the lazarette hatch at the stern of the boat rose a shadow. The moon glinted off the blade of the chainsaw lifted in a guard position as Sawyer crouched behind the cover of a ready box.

"I'm talkin' about how I really liked the way you sang Joplin back in the day," mocked Revy. She spread her feet a little further apart, adjusted to cover the unexpected appearance of Sawyer with the left Cutlass. What was Goth Girl about? "I liked how you hit the high notes when I rammed that pitchfork through your flabby gut. C'mon Tommy! here's the original bad-ass China girl. Take a piece of my heart if you can, you son of a bitch!"

"NO!" Gunny Tom gasped, his sole eye widening in shock. "Damn you, Fred-Fred! You set this up!"

Niken sensed an opportunity. With a desperate kick the girl struggled to break free of the murderer, throwing herself to the side against the restraining arm. Instantly Revy stepped forward and put three shots into Gunny Tom's chest. His shirt blossomed with blood. Shrieking, the man fell back against the torpedo tube. The knife fell with a clatter to the deck.

"Damn it!" The Cutlass in the right hand had stove-piped, the cartridge stuck in the ejection port. Caught off guard by the unexpected malfunction Revy dropped the gun and threw herself to the deck as the shotgun roared, the spray missing her by inches.

Sawyer held still, watching, waiting for the right moment. Rock leaped forward and wrestled with Gunny Tom, driving his shoulder into the man's chest in an attempt to knock him over the torpedo tube. Cursing, the man clubbed Rock with the shotgun and broke free. He fumbled at his belt for the lariat.

Revy staggered to her feet and passed the remaining gun to the right hand Before she could raise the gun for a shot, something whistled through the air. The noose dropped over her head and arms before she could react and tightened immediately. With a heave the man reeled Revy towards him, the length of the lariat snapping tight.

Frantic, Revy instinctively resisted and threw herself away, pulling the gun hand free. She tripped over the prone figure of Niken and slid over the casing of the torpedo tube. Her head hung over the edge.

"Kill ya," howled Gunny Tom. "Gonna kill ya. Gut ya and rip you open." He bent down and scooped up the bowie knife. The man flung himself on top of Revy, bending her back across the tube. Snarling she twisted and fired again, the shot snapping by his head.. Gunny Tom reared up with the knife raised

Sawyer dashed forward, the chainsaw roaring. With a diagonal slash she ripped open Gunny Tom's abdomen, spilling his intestines and viscera over Revy. Wielding the chainsaw like a sword, she whipped it back, slicing off the man's jaw.

Gunny Tom toppled over Revy, hit the waves with a hard slap and sank instantly. For one brief moment, Revy was balanced precariously on the tube, legs and arms desperately flailing for a grasp or hold of any kind. She reached out to Sawyer who stepped back. The rope snapped tight and she was pulled over the edge. The waves swallowed Two Hands.

--

"No!" whispered Rock. He looked over the side. Revy was gone.

Sawyer switched off the chainsaw and let it fall with a clatter. There was only the gentle sound of waves lapping against the _Black Lagoon _and the heavy breathing of the survivors. The children spilled out of the day room, some kneeling down to help the wounded Parang. Niken tottered to her feet and stood alone, blood streaming down her face.

Sawyer spoke. He looked at her blankly, the words made no sense, she spoke again.

"**He killed... my mother... She killed... my father...**"

The words sunk into his consciousness slowly. He shook his head, horrified. But across Sawyer's usually closed, tight face a genuine smile of joy appeared. She tossed her head back.

"**They... deserve each other... in Hell!**"

"What do we do now?" asked the boy Chaiyo looking up at him with a curious look

"She can hold her breath for more than three minutes," blurted Rock. "She free dives all the time when we're not working. Dutch takes the boat down to the southern beaches all the time."

"**What?!**" The smile vanished as suddenly as it appeared. "**I thought... she smoked? ...How can... she hold her breath... that long?**"

Rock shoved Chaiyo aside and dashed up the port side of the boat, leaping over Parang and the others. He dodged through the cockpit and into the chart room. Benny was struggling to his feet with a pained expression, a hand to the back of his neck.

"What the hell happened?" he asked. "Somebody clobbered the crap out of me."

Rock ignored him. There were too many switches, gauges, levers! The right one, which one was the right one!

"Which switch!" He shouted. Frustrated, he pounded at the instrument board. "The salvage lights! Which one turns on the salvage lights? The one's Dutch put on last year!"

"Got it," said Benny. He flicked the switch on. "I think some burnt out, wasn't the greatest idea. Should I..."

Rock burst out and headed towards the back. The waters around the boat were lit up from underneath. He would have to dive from the stern. The boat had been drifting away from the spot where Revy had gone in.

**No!**" exclaimed Sawyer. She grabbed at his arm. "**I gutted him... he's a dead weight... they're gone... Let her go!**"

For one moment, one terrible moment, he hesitated. Then Rock ripped of his shoes and jumped.

--

Submerged in the water, Rock looked around and found Revy fifteen feet under. She must have tried to swim up towards the light. Her back was arched, hands sticking straight out, a Beretta still gripped tightly in her hand. She was sinking into the darkness with the lariat trailing behind. Rock reached out to her with a desperate stretch, his heart pounding to the point of bursting out of his chest. He wrapped his arms around her torso and turned back towards the surface, only taking light kicks to preserve oxygen. He knew at this depth, his body would have enough buoyancy and he would be able to float to the top with Revy.

Rock surfaced with a gasp. There was nothing in sight and he began to panic until he heard shouts from behind him. He and Revy were facing away from the boat. With an effort, he struggled to swim towards the boat while holding onto Revy and keeping her head clear above the water. He cursed under his breath as the boat was drifting away in the current. Rock sputtered as a wave washed over him.

Benny heaved out a lifesaver connected to a line. Rock immediately grasped it. A couple of children helped Benny and eager hands gripped the line, pulling Rock and Revy back aboard the Black Lagoon.

Rock's breath shook as he laid Revy on the deck, taking a closer look. She was motionless as rivulets of water ran off of her limp body. Her face was a deep blue, her teeth clenched. She wasn't breathing.

"What do we do?" Benny asked, "I don't know CPR."

Rock gulped for air, unsteady on his hands and knees. "I... I was sick the day they taught it for diving back in Japan." His voice sounded hopeless and weak..

"**I can save her,**"said Sawyer suddenly, pushing through the curious children. She knelt at Revy's side, but her eyes were trained on Rock. "**But only... if you answer... a question.**"

"What?" Rock gasped, "What do you want?"

"******Why... did you hesitate? Now! She is running... out of time...****"**

"You bitch!" Rock snarled. His thoughts wandered to the Beretta Revy was still clutching in her hand. For a moment, he contemplated ripping that gun away and shooting Sawyer on the spot, but it probably wouldn't fire. And Sawyer was right. Revy was running out of time. With a weary sigh, Rock looked down at Revy's motionless form.

"She wanted to kill everyone," Rock said barely above a whisper, "She was going to toss all the kids overboard and leave them in the sea to die." Benny shook his head as the meaning became clear. The children backed away.

Sawyer lifted her head an iota, staring intently at Rock's face. He was still looking at Revy. His expression was distraught, but there was also a presence of resentment. Sawyer smiled inwardly and finally turned her attention towards Revy. Ah, so that was it, wasn't it? She understood their relationship perfectly now.

Sawyer clasped her hands together above her head before bringing them down and striking Revy in the chest. Revy coughed and spit up water.

"Fight to the end...!" she shouted. Revy's eyes attempted to focus for a second, blurs swimming in her vision until she clearly saw Sawyer's face. Revy's eyes rolled back and she passed out. She was unconscious, but breathing.

"******Hmm,****"** Sawyer purred. So she didn't drown. It was just shallow water blackout. Rising from her kneeling position, Sawyer turned around and left the group that had gathered around the passed out gunslinger. There was no need for go after Two Handsl anymore.

--

Benny was once more at the controls and the children had gone back down below, leaving only Rock, Revy, and Sawyer on the deck. Rock solemnly looked at the still soaked Beretta in Revy's hand, and pulled the gun out of her grasp. Glancing at her pale face and recalling the earlier events, the man had an urge to toss the Cutlass into the sea, but he let the feeling pass and lowered the gun to his side.

Revy stirred and snapped her eyes open, the upper half of her body lifting in a series of twitches and jerks. Rock stared at her, shocked. She had unconscious for only ten minutes.

"S-Spooky Chick," Revy hissed. Something was wrong. She had passed out, Sawyer was on board, yet she was still in one piece. Her body shook violently as she tried to get back on her feet, her arms hanging down lazily by her sides, head lowered, legs bent. She struggled to walk upright. Rock reached out to touch her shoulder. Revy turned her head towards him.

"Leave me alone!" she shrieked. She bared her teeth and her eyes were filled with absolute hatred. Anything he was going to say wasn't going to deter her from trying to find Sawyer. Rock frowned and his eyes became half-lidded. He shook his head as Revy staggered away on rubbery legs.

--

The night sky overhead was spangled with stars. The wind caused messy black strands to whip at Sawyer's face as she stood at the bow with the chainsaw in hand, staring at the water.

"Goth Girl..." Sawyer heard the voice come several feet from behind her. She turned around with an expectant look, she already knew who it was. Revy was heaving, dark rings under her bloodshot eyes, barely able to stand up straight.

"******Don't even try... to threaten me, Two Hands,****"** Sawyer said, now displaying a rather bored expression, **"********In your current state... I could push you off the boat... with little effort.****"**

"You cunt," Revy heaved. The ghost woman was right. Only now did Revy realize how truly weak she was, in a futile motion she pawed at the empty holsters. She wasn't even sure if she could muster up enough energy to strangle her. She eyed the chainsaw in Sawyer's hands.

"******I won't use... my chainsaw... Not now... Not today...****"** The statement was honest. With a shaky intake of breath, Revy spoke.

"What?"

"******I remember... so long ago... back at the ranch in Texas...****"** Sawyer began, **"********This Chinese punk... killed my father... She drowned him... in the bog...****"** Revy stood still, frozen in place. Why was Sawyer bringing this up?

"******He was... the only reason I stayed... the reason I was trapped... at that terrible place. When he died... I had no reason... to be there anymore... I packed up and ran away. But even though... I was free... because of his death... I always despised that girl. Ever since that day... I always dreamed... of the perfect kill...****"**

"And?" Revy breathed shallowly, "Dumbass, that punk is standing right here in front of you. After all the shit I've done to you, you didn't take the chance when I was passed out, and you're tellin' me you won't take it now. The hell are you up to?"

"******Yes... It would be... a simple kill... You are tired... and you are weak... ****"** The bored expression faded and Sawyer's eyes filled with anger, gripping her chainsaw tightly. **"********But to kill you here... and now... under these circumstances... with my chainsaw... No, it's too easy... It's too merciful.****"**

Revy's eyes bulged. _Merciful_?

"******That day at the ranch... put me on the road... to Roanapur. My past... everything that happened... the events that made me become... 'The Cleaner'... I have endured... unspeakable pain... I have suffered so much...****"** Sawyer closed her eyes and lifted one of her hands off of her chainsaw, sliding her fingers across the scar on her neck. **"********For me... to give the demon... who killed my father... and put me on this path... a merciful death... I shall not allow it... I want you suffer.****"** Sawyer made eye contact.

"******You remember it all... Don't you? When your girlfriend... was butchered in the shed...****"**

"Shut up!"

"******The business... with the Aisin Gioro... That must have been... quite painful... The white haired one said... it was fun.****"**

"Shut up!" Revy hissed. Then, "Wait, what?"

"******Your own past... Your own path to Roanapur... You have memories... Terrible memories... They torment you... I can see it in your eyes...****"**

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Summoning what little energy she had left, Revy attempted to lunge at Sawyer, but the ghost woman calmly stepped aside and let the tired gunslinger fall on her face. Revy tried to support herself on trembling arms, her head hung low, eyes focused on the deck, sweat dripping from her brow.

"******The memories... are always there,****"** Sawyer continued, **"********You cannot... forget them. You cannot... escape them. They will follow you... They will haunt you... until the day you die. Little by little... your sanity is eaten away... while you drown yourself... in your own misery... and self-pity. Why should I use my chainsaw... to kill you right now? You're already... killing yourself.****"**

Sawyer let the words sink in with a long pause. The ghost woman then raised her eyebrows in a thoughtful gesture.

"******And if it is... simply a matter... of your death... I can just wait.****"**

Eyes still on the deck, Revy's body tensed as she clenched her teeth.

"******Your man... Your compass... He's the only reason... you're still alive...****"**

Revy muttered something incomprehensible. Leave Rock out of this, she thought.

"******But I'm sure... he can only tolerate... so much drama. I saw how he looked at you... while you were passed out. He's almost out... of hope... One day... you'll go too far...****"**

Revy choked.

"******He'll give up on you... and turn away. Your compass will be gone... You will be... all alone... with no one there to guide you. And with your... history... it's not likely... you will be making smart choices. When a person makes... one wrong move in Roanapur... they end up at my abattoir.****"** The anger had left Sawyer's face completely and her dark blue eyes sparkled with mirth. She smiled.

"******You're no exception, Two Hands. You have a severe lack... of self-control... and all that alcohol... has burned a hole... in your head... You'll screw up eventually. Now... go away... my throat hurts...****"**

Growling, Revy shakily lifted herself up to her feet. Her bloodshot eyes were contorted in a hellish rage. That fucking goth girl. Revy wanted to rip that stupid voice machine off of her neck and make her curl up into a little ball. She to beat her until she shattered every single bone in her little body. She wanted to grab her by the neck and throw her corpse into the sea to join that one-eyed bastard.

But she could barely stand up, barely lift up her arms. She had been through five days of meth fueled insomnia, a violent bulldozer encounter and a drowning, and she was a wasted shell. She knew she wasn't able to rip off the Ultravoice, she knew she wasn't able to beat her further, and she knew she wasn't able to throw her into the sea. All Revy could do was glare daggers as her snarling mouth trembled around clenched teeth.

"Fuck you, you little bitch."

The gunslinger stumbled away and left Sawyer on the deck, alone. The ghost woman looked away with a blank expression. The words had had no effect.. Taking a small breath, she looked back at the water as the boat cut across the sea.

Suddenly, her brow furrowed and her mouth twitched as she felt a sharp pang of nausea in her stomach. She swayed back and forth until she plopped down on her haunches and bent over slightly, gripping her chainsaw with one hand as she covered her mouth with the other. She was going to be sea sick. Just great.


	12. Chapter 12

**Epilogue: Lessons Learned and Forgotten**

"Are you ready?" asked Rock.

Revy nodded.

Rock paused at the door, "Revy... last night... you were dreaming again. It wasn't good. Do you need to talk?"

Revy interrupted him sharply, "A person don't change just because you find out more about them. All static baby. Forget it."

Revy stormed down the hallway dismissing any rejoinder with a flick of the wrist. Rock and his talk. She never was sure whether she wanted to either fuck his brains out, or shoot him. Whether she would cry afterwards was anyone's call.

Her hand slipped into her pocket and found the pills...

--

"Where's the money?" asked Niken. She had been waiting at the entrance of Hat Yai hospital for several hours. Parang moved slowly, underneath the shirt his midsection was heavily bandaged.

Parang sized up the girl warily. The red scar with the stitches across the cheek gave Niken a hard, nasty look.

"I gave almost all of it to the shelter," he said. "It's what Gaavrila wanted. The younger kids will be taken care of and a whole lot more."

"That was stupid," she snapped and lit up a cigarette. He stared. "Good thing I lifted some for myself when I had the chance. And we were stupid running about doing the cripple's business. Fuck, we almost got killed."

Parang looked away. "I'm leaving. Going home, catching a ferry out of here. I've had enough of Thailand."

A sly look crept across Niken's face. "Not me. Roanapur's where I belong, I'm going back tomorrow, told some trucker I'd keep him happy if he drives me back up. And look what I got now."

From the new purse dangling at her hip she proudly gave him a glimpse of the concealed pistol.

"Merciful Buddha," Parang shook his head. There was nothing else to say. He limped down the front steps.

--

It was early morning. The coffin was borne on the shoulders of hard faced men. Boris and Yevgeny in the lead position, moving with a slow military precision towards the open grave. The Russians had shown up en masse and stood in ordered ranks in the small foreigner's cemetery. The crew of the _Black Lagoon_ had been ordered in no uncertain terms to make an appearance and to dress appropriately. Dutch stood by Balalaika's side looking as if he always wore a suit and tie.

"I told Kazakhova long ago at her father's funeral that she would find this city to be unforgiving and merciless," said Balalaika. "She was told to go home. And now, we put her in foreign mud beside the father. He was a comrade of ours, so here we stand."

"Not all of the men are satisfied," continued Balalaika "Some feel that Two-hands is responsible for the death of the girl. It is strange; in life they would cross the street or turned back in a panic – men who've been tried and tested in the hell of the Panjshir - anything to avoid Kazakhova if they saw her on the street spouting her silly gibberish – in death, she has become something untouchable and pure. Now they will do anything to avenge her. There are rumors and bad feelings that cannot be dispelled by the passage of time and the fading of memory."

Dutch nodded, his eyes shielded behind the sunglasses. "Our presence here is necessary. I understand."

"But I'm very satisfied," said Balalaika with a note of triumph. "One of my men found Kazakhova's diary in the warehouse, undetected by the police. Do you know what that little cripple was up to all this time? She was using her private army of street kids to spy on us all. She was planning to give up all her notes to some American journalist. Rip this city wide open. _Bozhe moi!_"

Dutch sighed.

Balalaika blinked slowly. "How many partners have you had over the years, Dutchie?"

A pause. "A few," said Dutch, his voice dropping as he considered the implication of the question.

Balalaika glanced over at the crew of the _Black Lagoon, _they stood to the side and separate of the ordered ranks, out of earshot. Benny, miserable and already perspiring in a too heavy plaid sports jacket. Rock, looking earnestly about. Two-hands: she stood between the two men. Dressed in black with white gloves with a bored expression held at bay.

"The leash on that dog needs to be kept tight, very tight," said Balalaika. "I found her attitude in Japan very troubling – she forgets her place. She is a hired gun, nothing more. Two-hands is fortunate I didn't order my men to shoot to kill during the affair with the Bloodhound. She's become a topic of discussion between Chang and I, mostly as to whether she's outlived her usefulness. She attracts trouble like some women attract men, always the wrong type. If not for Chang's insistence, her time would have been up long ago."

"I disagree," said Dutch heatedly in a rare display of emotion. "I am responsible for my people."

"If you had said anything else," said Balalaika. "our debt to you would have been no more. I do not compromise, Dutchie. If not for the current political situation in Bangkok, we would not have been able to cover up this massacre. A price must be paid in blood. It will not be Two-hands... this time. I have Chang's word the matter will be taken care of"

Gaavrila's coffin was lowered into the grave.

"A saint sent off by sinners," Dutch adjusted the frames of his glasses. "Ironic isn't it?"

"Nothing but a dead fool," snapped Balalaika. "She trusted in God. He was not there."

"_But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them." - __Wisdom 2.22 - 3.5,9_

--

Lee Kwan walked briskly through the floor level of the building with a scowl. He was leaving Roanapur. Several days after the hunt for the children and the Cleaner, Boss Chang had given him a call out of the blue. The conversation was short and direct. Chang was going to come back to his helm in the city and Lee Kwan would be politely escorted back to Hong Kong. The Red Poles were dead, that idiotic foreigner vanished into thin air, and the 100K missing. A trifle of an amount, but he had lost face.

He slammed the doors open and his scowl transformed into a cocky smirk as he walked away from the building. Well, at least Mr. Chang hadn't caught wind of the hunt he had organized. That was evident from the black stretch limousine that had been provided for his exit out of the city. There was a man dressed in a chauffeur's uniform waiting by the limousine.

"Greetings, Boss Lee Kwan," the male said coolly, slightly tilting the tip of his hat downwards, "I shall be your chauffeur this evening."

The Wo Triad boss curled his lip upon taking a closer look at the man. Silver hair, multiple piercings in both ears, rings on his fingers, and he was wearing sunglasses at night no less. This gigolo was going to be his chauffeur? Lee Kwan scoffed. It seemed all the stories he had heard about Mr. Chang's odd sense of humor were true.

"Mr. Chang wished to inform you that you'll be accompanied by two women. He hopes you will... enjoy their company." He opened the car door and gestured for Lee Kwan to get in. "They are waiting for you."

With a smug look, Lee Kwan got into the limo. The silver haired man shut the door and walked around the long vehicle. He swiftly, fluidly got into the driver's seat, fastening his seatbelt and adjusting the mirror. The privacy divider was up.

"A wretched brute who would dare to attack helpless waifs and cause a pale maiden such misery," Rotton said to no one in particular, turning the key in the ignition and putting the limo in drive, "The price for concocting such a revolting event will be paid with your blood."

As the limo began to cruise through the streets, Lee Kwan reclined and grinned. The neon lights from the clubs and bars barely illuminated the interior of the vehicle, all he could make out in the darkness were the outlines of two feminine figures sitting a considerable distance across from him in the stretch limo. He curled his finger in a come hither motion.

"Come here, don't be so shy," he barked.

"Cannot help if we not come over so quickly," said a high-pitched voice in a broken pattern, "Better to know you first, yes? I hear you boss of Wo Triad. Must have been hard to get to such high position..." Lee Kwan's grin grew. He wouldn't mind a little conversation beforehand if the women were going to stroke his ego.

"It wasn't very difficult. It took nothing more than killing those who stood in my path."

"You kill anyone you think stand in your way to get to top?" The words sounded more like a statement than a question. "You wanted to be leader that badly?" She stretched out her long legs closer to the center of the limousine, an area with slightly better lighting. He could see the flawless skin in the dim light through the tinted windows.

"Only the strongest survive in this world," boasted Lee Kwan, stretching his arms out on either side of him and resting them on the top of the leather seat, "But I rarely ever need to get my hands dirty anymore. I can dispatch underlings at will if I need something done." That should impress the woman.

"Ah, I see. You want to kill someone, all you do is snap fingers and they go out and work. To do such thing in city like this, must be so powerful..." The woman's voice was smooth, seductive. Lee Kwan licked his lips, thinking the woman and her silent companion were finally going to come over and show more than a simple outline of their bodies.

"...or very _stupid_." The sultry tone had left and was replaced with venom. The legs were pulled back out of Lee Kwan's view. Two khukri blades flew out of the darkness, skewering his hands and pinning them to the seat. His scream of pain was stillborn as the flash of red, gold and white rushed towards him out of the shadows on the other side of the limo. Lee Kwan now realized the woman was one of the freelancers, Shenhua. Her eyes staring into his, Shenhua gripped the handles of her khukri knives and dug them deeper into his hands.

"Send out men to kill street kids in this city, and think can get away with it. Yes, you stupid. Very stupid." She pressed the blades with a disgusted frown.

"Was out of town working on other job. When I come back, I find out what happen. Chang _da ge_ know all about what you did too."

Lee Kwan's eyes bulged. What? This bitch and Boss Chang knew? How in the hell did they find out?

"Motherfucker who murder children for money, I have no problem following order to kill you. I normally make death quick, but knowing you also go after friend..." She twisted the twin khukri. Lee Kwan cried out, a blotch of urine emerging on the front of his pants. "It personal." Shenhua left her khukri in Lee Kwan's hands and moved away. She turned with a smile and made a gesture with her head.

The smaller woman that was still sitting on the other side of the limousine rose from her seat, a dull shine coming from a slim bar of metal edged with small metallic teeth. Lee Kwan's heart skipped a beat and his breathing became erratic when a ghastly white face came into the dim light. The area around the left eye was a deep purple, her lip was still healing, but what stood out was the insidious smile and the cold, piercing sapphire eyes.

"**Lee Kwan...**"Sawyer said lyrically,"**I'll show you... where the bodies are.**" The chainsaw roared.

As blood stained the leather interior and splattered on the tinted windows. Passersby on the outside laughed when they saw the vehicle bounce back and forth as it cruised through the streets, completely unaware that the limousine was rocking for all the wrong reasons.

**The End.**


End file.
